


Stranger Stranger

by AzaleaBlue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mention of major character death, Suspense, no graphic description of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzaleaBlue/pseuds/AzaleaBlue
Summary: With Ron gone, Harry struggles to move on while Hermione remains stuck in limbo- until she finds him. Or does she?





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a very high level of ANGST- dealing with mentions of death of a major character, and grieving.  
If any of these are your trigger issues, please be warned, keep safe and avoid reading.
> 
> You are your own best judge. A story is not more important than your mental health- please don't read if any of these bother you.
> 
> If you still continue reading, I want you to know that due to the sensitive premise, I have avoided making anyone read it, and as such, this is not beta-ed. Any and all errors you find are mine, and apologies in advance.
> 
> Also, this story is 7 chapters long and I have already finished writing it. Unless something unforeseen happens, I will post one chapter a day, starting today.
> 
> Last but not least, if you stay with this story, thank you for reading. For some very personal reasons, this story is very close to my heart, a sort of wish-fulfilment really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains a very high level of ANGST- dealing with #mentions of death of a major character, and #grieving. If any of these are your trigger issues, please be warned, keep safe and avoid reading.
> 
> You are your own best judge. A story is not more important than your mental health- please don't read if any of these bother you.
> 
> If you still continue reading, I want you to know that due to the sensitive premise, I have avoided making anyone read it, and as such, this is not beta-ed. Any and all errors you find are mine, and apologies in advance.
> 
> Also, this story is 7 chapters long and I have already finished writing it. Unless something unforeseen happens, I will post one chapter a day, starting today.
> 
> Last but not least, if you stay with this story, thank you for reading. For some very personal reasons, this story is very close to my heart, a sort of wish-fulfilment really.

**Chapter 1: Lost**

Just as he had feared, Harry found her packing the same brown bag she used for these trips.

"Hermione-"

Without even bothering to look up, she retorted sharply before he had even begun "Don't even dare, Harry."

"I'm tired," he pleaded, running his hand through his hair frustratedly. "You are not doing this, Hermione. Not again," he declared, quiet but firm.

He expected her to snap around, eyes in slits, fury radiating off her. He wasn't wrong. Harry closed his eyes momentarily and braced himself for the tirade of arguments he had learnt by heart. In the few seconds that Hermione took to reach him, he tried imagining Ron's smiling face, tried thinking what Ron would have told her. But as expected, he failed. His best mate wouldn't have to deal with this; if he was still around, Harry and Hermione wouldn't be in this situation at all.

"If you can't help, keep out of it!" she hissed as she approached him, and this time, Harry tried imagining Hermione before she had changed, tried really hard to picture her smiling. He failed yet again, miserably.

Harry Potter was not a stranger to loss. He had stopped counting his losses years ago, made peace with fate. However, at some point, his seventeen-year-old foolish self had imagined that if he defeated Voldemort and survived, he might be able to tip the scales in his favour. Perhaps Lady Destiny had laughed at his foolishness. The war had come to an end, but on that very night, he had lost two of his most prized possessions- his best friends. Death had snatched one away and grief had taken the other.

He inhaled deeply but it did not fill the empty space in his chest, so he grabbed her hand in his. "Stop looking for him, Hermione. You can't bring him back," he pleaded yet again.

"I can," she retorted adamantly, her voice soft but fierce.

"No, you can't," he tried yet again like he had so many times before, forty-seven to be exact, in the last couple of years.

"I know I'll find him this time!" she pleaded, "Come with me, Harry, I know this -"

"Stop. Please! For Merlin's sake, stop, Hermione!" he snapped, fighting back his tears.

"I know I'll find him this time, Harry!" she repeated, " I know it! How can you forget him? Ron is your best friend, isn't he? We have to find him!"

Harry looked at her eyes, hoping to find a trace of the girl he knew, hoping to see a teardrop. He found none of those. It was like looking into the eyes of a ghost- blank and hazy- lost in an era gone by. And in a way, she was just that- the feeble imprint of a friend he once had.

"I know where he is."

"You do?" she gasped happily, and the smile broke his heart more than her anger did.

"Yeah. He's been there for the past couple of years- almost-, and you've never visited him once."

Hermione's smile paled and she met his eyes with more fury than he had ever seen in anyone's features before. She turned away and after throwing the last few items inside her bag, zipped it roughly.

"You are hurting everyone, Hermione!" he begged again, "Molly, Arthur, Ginny- the whole family. We can't see you this way. Please-" he managed, choking on his words.

"Everyone will be okay when I bring him back," she declared determined. And despite the Healer's orders, despite knowing that he shouldn't, Harry paced forward and turning her around by the elbow, shook her vigorously. He was exhausted and broken too. "FOR FUCK SAKE, STOP THIS MADNESS, HERMIONE!" he yelled at last, ignoring the tears of frustration and pain that escaped, "Ron's gone. He died-"

The sound of her her palm hitting his cheek resounded in the small flat, and then she was gone-Disapparated again to Merlin knew where. This time Harry collapsed on the floor and sobbed, hating Ron for dying and for taking away a part of Hermione with him too- but most of all- for leaving him behind to deal with his losses all alone.

…

"I don't think I've seen this bloke in these parts, miss," the elderly gentleman looked up from the fading picture to meet her eyes.

"He's older now," she insisted, "Around twenty?"

The man gave her a sad smile, "I've lived here all my life, never seen him before. Are you sure, your information is correct?"

She gulped down, pushing away the tiny ray of light that had driven her to these wild and sparsely habited parts of Ireland. "I had hoped so."

The old muggle looked at her for a few long minutes before he handed the photograph back. "Could I get you some tea? Seems you need it."

She nodded, glancing once at the picture in her hand before she placed it carefully inside her diary, "No, thank you. I'd- I'd rather be off."

"It's getting cold, tea will do you good. Come sit," he gestured at one of the tables at the cafe and went inside.

Hermione stood to wait until he disappeared inside the cottage and then turned around to leave. But her tired legs dragged her to where the man had indicated and she slumped down on the chair, dropping her bag on the floor and the frayed diary on the table. Slowly, she pulled out her pencil, flipped open a page and struck off the writing, breathing slowly. She _knew_ that she ought to feel something- _hopeless, angry and frustrated,_ _perhaps?_ But she had long lost touch with emotions-twenty two months- to be precise. She rarely felt anything apart from anger, and once in a while, something she vaguely recognised as hope. Mostly she felt nothing at all as if a quiet cloud of dark emptiness encompassed and separated her from the world.

Hermione flipped open the diary till she reached the page where the old photograph was tucked in and ran her fingers lovingly over it. The sixteen-year-old boy in it did not move, simply looked back at her with his lopsided grin, a fringe of orange hair fell over his forehead. Quietly, she closed the diary once more and put it inside her bag. _She'd find him,_ she assured herself, _she just needed to search harder_.

…..

The night came suddenly; Hermione had hoped to reach the next village before dusk.

As she walked alone through the wilderness, hoping to ask the people she met on the way- not that she met any, but Hermione couldn't take the chance.

The magical way had proved ineffective, but unwilling to give up, she had begun her quest the muggle way. It was exhausting, but she had written to each and every postal office in England, Ireland and Scotland, along with a picture and an urgent message. If anyone had any information, they were to call her, write to her or meet her. The mails were few and far in-between but she visited each place and travelled around- who knew, he could be anywhere.

Her boss at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries knew her clause, and although Hermione assumed Senior Healer Mary Pickett wasn't in favour of these missions, the elderly witch allowed her to leave for these impromptu trips. Hermione was exceptional in her work and the research wing of the hospital needed her.

The rocky ground crunched under her boots and she thought of nothing specific as walked along the narrow path that led from one village to the next. Her wand was shoved inside her jeans and she looked around just to ensure she had missed not a single soul, but as the temperature dipped she stalled only to pull out an old, maroon jumper. It was much too big on her frail form but fit snugly once she pulled it over her clothes. Hermione ran her fingers over the golden 'R' on it, and zipping her bag back, flung it on her shoulders and resumed walking, once again keeping an eye out for someone who might have seen him.

As the visibility reduced, she pulled out a muggle torch and cast the beam in front of her. According to her map, the next hamlet wasn't far and couldn't take her longer than half-an-hour at the most. And perhaps she could find accommodation for the night? She did have a tent with her too, but she hated wasting time. Staying with a family meant she could use the time to chat with the locals and be completely sure that she'd checked with everyone about him. _Search orderly and meticulously,_ she reminded herself.

She must have walked for barely ten minutes before the torch flickered and died. Groaning, she patted it against her palm. She could always use her wand but preferred not to; she had to blend in with the Muggles after all. The torch came back after a few pats and satisfied, she cast the light around her, noticing that she had reached the woods that preceded the brook before the hamlet.

_Almost, _she told herself and turned her torch beam to the left when suddenly the torch died again. Furious, she banged the torch on her palm again, not bothering to break step, when unexpectedly her feet fell on a stray boulder and she slipped. But her attempt to get up was foiled as she missed her footing again, and this time, she rolled down the sloping edges of the path, deep inside the woods. She tried hard to grasp onto something, tree trunks or branches but the soil was wet and slippery with a layer of mushy leaves, and her flailing arms could do nothing to arrest her fall.

And then suddenly, she crashed against something solid - and the darkness in her mind engulfed her whole.

….

She woke up with a severe headache. The cacophony of birds was deafening and she groaned, covering her ears with her palms. The light was blinding, hurting her eyes even as she tried opening them a smidge. She seemed to have sprained her leg for the pain was unbearable, and her entire back ached. Slowly and with much difficulty, Hermione opened her eyes, realisation slowly trickling in that she was not lying on the forest floor.

"Hey."

She opened her eyes hurriedly at the sound, all senses alert suddenly, and pushed herself off whatever she was lying on even as a maddening spell of dizziness hit her at that instant.

But even at that moment as small as a heartbeat, she had seen what she needed to.

"_Ron?!_" she cried.

….


	2. Found

**Chapter 2: Found**

All at once, her physical agonies seem to disappear to be replaced by the dam of pent-up emotions she had carried for almost two years and slammed onto her consciousness.

Pulling him by the lapels of his jacket, she scrambled against his chest crying, mumbling words her mind had forbidden her brain to utter, let alone comprehend. Her words and whimpers merged into one and Hermione sobbed hysterically until the exhaustion lulled her back to sleep. She collapsed back on his chest without realising or noticing that the stranger gingerly placed her back on the cot, thoroughly confused.

The next time she woke up, the room was empty, with a dull noise of wood being chopped in the background.

"Ron?" she croaked, looking around.

She seemed to be in a room that doubled up as a bedroom and study. Two cots were placed in an 'L' shape while a desk and wardrobe stood at the foot of the one on which she lay. The common bedside table had a candle-stand. Her shoes and socks were placed neatly by the bed and the bruise on her sprained foot was covered with a gauge that seemed to hold in a green paste, quite possibly some kind of mushed leaves but nothing she could recognise. The 'treatment' had worked for sure since her legs ached no more, although, her back and shoulders still did.

She threw off the cover and sat up, heart pounding away at his absence when suddenly, the sound outside ceased. She held on with bated breath- it felt like she had woken up after years-long slumber. There was a dull ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her fall. As she took in her surroundings, a hundred different thoughts and questions were churned out by her subconscious.

And then she heard his footsteps approaching.

They paused suddenly and there were faint sounds of cutlery being moved around before the footsteps resumed.

She forgot to breathe as his tall form came into view, and she soaked in the sight hungrily.

He did not look a day older than she remembered him, but in contrast to their Horcrux-hunting days, he looked well-fed and fit. His hair was shorter and yet the fringe fell over his eyes. A slight coppery stubble was visible on that sharp jawline. He was just the same, from the long nose to the freckles dotting it and yet, different somehow. He wore a leather jacket, a navy-blue jumper visible underneath with a well-worn pair of denim, and could easily be mistaken as a muggle. He came forward and placed the small tray he was carrying on the study-table, pushed back his arm-sleeves before picking up the two mugs. She could easily make out the faint tentacle scars on his arms.

As he came forward and met her eyes, the blue orbs sparklingly in a familiar way, he looked every bit like he did in her dreams- only his eyes held no recognition in them, just curiosity.

"Alexander Lloyd," he said and handed her a steaming mug, "-or just 'Alex'," he smiled and shrugged- every action heart-wrenchingly familiar, "Didn't get a chance to introduce myself before."

She took the mug wordlessly, her eyes lingering on his fingertips as they touched hers, eyes pricking with tears that threatened to spill over again.

"Her- Hermione Granger," she choked out and took a sip to aid her parched throat, her brain silently running a mile an hour, trying to untangle the knots.

"Hermione…" he said softly and paused as if pondering something. "Very pretty name. Can't say I've heard that one before," he commented.

She met his eyes, biting back a sob before looking away quickly to wipe her eyes on her sleeve.

"Your-m-my jumper?" she croaked. He looked away, and scratching the back of his neck pointed outside with the other hand.

"Yeah, umm, I gave it a wash. It was really soaking and gathered a fair bit of mud, yeah? Didn't-Didn't want you to catch a cold," he provided sheepishly.

"Oh," she managed.

"Seems it took the brunt of the fall too," he explained hurriedly.

She managed a weak smile, "Thank you." Unable to hold back, she continued to look at him until he looked rather concerned. "You-?" she began haltingly, unsure what to ask or where to begin.

He smiled, took a sip from his mug and smacked his lips, "I live here-" he shrugged a little, scanning the room with his eyes, "-with my Grampa, well, _lived _here with the old man till he- y'know, died last month," he finished, looked away and smiled sadly.

"Your grandpa-?" she asked flabbergasted. Every second, more and more questions were adding on to her list.

"Yeah, I know what y'er thinking-funny sorta place to live, here in the middle of nowhere. Grampa, he, um-" he paused and let out a tiny sigh, and ran his fingers through his hair sending another pang through her heart. "Hated wiz-" he sucked in a breath and coughed to cover up for the slip and cleared his throat as he sat down on the other bed, "-_People_\- hated people. He liked to live alone and- yeah- we just had each other- so..."

"Oh," she managed. She looked between them, on the scars that were still visible at his wrists and his familiar blue eyes, "Your gr-grandfather, did he hate people - I mean- _people_ or _w-wizards_?" she asked carefully, watching him.

He looked up sharply from his cup, opened and closed his mouth a few times, and continued looking at her for a long time not realising how hard he was making for her to control herself from flying into his arms.

"Wizards," he admitted at last, "And witches too. All magic folk really," he mumbled slowly. "You are-?"

"-a witch, yes. And, _you_-?"

"Me?" He chuckled softly, mirthlessly. "I am - I dunno- no wand or magical education, lived like a Muggle all my life. What should I call myself?"

"Can you," she sucked in a breath, "perform magic or-"

"Can I?" he seemed to ponder aloud, closed his eyes briefly and gulped. Hermione noticed the familiar way his Adam's apple bobbled, "Guess I could but -" he stopped abruptly, noticed her cup and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, you must be starving, care for some sandwiches?"

Without waiting for an answer he picked himself up from his spot on the other bed and walked over to the table to get the tray.

"Ro- A-Alex?"

He turned around and smiled at her and she could have cried again, "Yeah?"

"How- how long have you been here?"

"Let me see- I guess, a few months now?"

"And before that-?"

He returned, handed her the tray and sat himself down again. She noticed a couple of sandwiches, an apple and some cheese on her plate.

"Before that, it was some other non-descriptive woods," he replied. "The old man was a little bit off his rocker really," he added sad but fondly, "we never stayed at the same place for very long."

"And you never met others?" she managed, "Not even muggles?"

"No, we did. Like the hamlet beyond the brook?" he paused, "And that reminds me...where did _you_ get here from? Don't remember seeing you around here before?"

"I was-" she stopped and gulped down the lump lodged at her throat, "I was-" she licked her dry, chapped lips, "-hiking."

"Hiking?"

"Travelling in the countryside," she provided.

"Alone?" he asked, and she longed to blurt out the truth but _what else could she say?_

"Yeah," she managed with a forced smile and drank some tea. "And you-"

"-That was a nasty fall you had, " he interrupted. "Could've broken your neck. Lucky it rained the past few days and the ground was soft."

"_Lucky_, yes…" She looked at the scratches on her arms and then her feet. "Thanks for healing my foot but what is that?" she asked motioning at the gauge.

"Some local herbs," he explained. "Grampa was great with those- trees, plants and roots. Knew everything from mending a broken bone to healing the deadliest disease."

"Magic?" she asked quietly.

"Nah, he called it 'muggle herbal medicine'. He was-"

"-against magic, yes," she finished for him. He laughed and Hermione closed her eyes soaking in the sound, breathing as if for the first time in an eternity. She opened her eyes fearful that he'd disappear if she looked away.

"I-" he began and indicated the cup, "-mixed some herbs in your tea, just to help you with your aches," he added sheepishly.

She felt on her shoulder and realised that the soreness had indeed dimmed. Probably she hadn't noticed because the pain in her chest was a little overbearing…

"What do you plan to do now, that-" she licked her lips, silently making a decision, "- you know, your grandpa is no longer around? You're- you're just going to stay here or-?"

He looked at her for a while, a strange softness reaching his eyes. "I don't know-" he shrugged a little, "I mean- I've been meaning to, y'know, leave this place," he looked around. "But where do I go, I know nobody, and I guess -" he sighed and paused abruptly.

"London?" she asked in a quiet whisper. "You could come to London- with me?"

…..

Harry hurried as he made his way to her flat, having just Apparating behind the rubbish bin in the secluded alley. His breathing hitched and he struggled to keep the anxiety from becoming overpowering. She never called for him after she returned from her trips, waited for him to track her out- mostly at the hospital where she immersed herself at work.

Arriving at her flat, he ran up the three flights of steps, not bothering to wait for the lift. He hated letting her live alone, but there was little she agreed to nowadays. Reaching for the second door on the third floor, he unlocked it by silently undoing the charms, his heart pounding away in worry.

The door opened and he closed it shut behind him and turned at the couch in the living room, expecting to find her huddled in it, wearing one of Ron's old jumpers, writing in that same diary of hers.

His heart stopped beating at what he saw and he backtracked a couple of steps until his back hit the wall.

Ron was sleeping on the couch.

His stunned brain took in the sight and the sounds- the way his long limbs dangled on the floor, the soft sound of his snoring, the familiar sight of his freckled face.

It was only when he felt Hermione's hands in his that he looked around at her to find the friend he had thought he had lost forever. Her eyes were pooling over.

"How?" he managed, choking. In response, she pulled him away to her bedroom and closed the door shut behind her. Pulling out her wand, she cast a silent Muffliato before she turned and hugged him... and sobbed.

Wrapping his arms fiercely around her he looked up to hold back his tears, allowing her to release the pain she had buried so deep that Harry feared she'd simply wither away one day.

Hermione hadn't cried.

The last time he remembered her 'normal' was when she had accompanied him, Ginny and Neville as they searched frantically for Ron after Final Battle- the last Harry remembered seeing Ron alive was when he and Neville threw off Greyback.

And then they found his body buried along with and under a bunch of Death Eaters - inert and lifeless.

Hermione had not spoken a word.

Not then, nor for the next two days. She returned with them to the Burrow, without even once glancing at the casket the family brought back. At the funeral, she sat right at the back, and he remembered seeing her walk back to the house even before the service was over. When the family returned, they found her at the dining table, wearing one of Ron's old jumpers and reading.

"Good you are back," she told them calmly. "We have to start looking for Ron. I wrote to Kingsley," she declared before going back to her book.

As Molly broke down again and Arthur took his wife away, Ginny walked up and hugged her. "Hermione, Ron-"

"-is missing. I know." she replied looking at them before she turned back at Ginny with a vacant smile and ghostly eyes. "Don't worry, Gin, I'll find him."

They had tried everything from conversation to potions to getting her a job at the hospital itself where she went through treatment without her knowledge. Nothing worked. She never cried, never believed- just quietly carried on with her research at work and her search for Ron.

Back in the present, he held onto Hermione, only the relief of seeing her reacting held him from running out of the door and waking up _Ro_\- _the man-_ and demanding an explanation. His Auror-instinct was working extra hard to figure out the truth.

_How?_

Harry had been fighting his nightmares for almost two years, could hardly get rid of the image of travelling back on the Hogwarts Express the very last time with his best mate, putting him to rest at the hillock near the Burrow.

And now, suddenly…

As Hermione continued to sob against his chest, he waited for her to stop and provide some answers. There _had_ to be some sort of a mistake, the man outside was most likely an imposter- Hermione's _situation _was not exactly a secret in the wizarding world.

And yet, there was something intrinsically familiar in the way the man slept...

It just wasn't possible...And yet, he knew, he desperately wanted it to be true, desperately wanted his best mate back.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, he pulled her away by holding her at her arms and sat her down on the bed as he knelt in front of her. Brushing her hair off her face and wiping off her tears, he grabbed her hands in his.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly, hating that the longing in his words was too evident.

"What if he is not _him? " _she whimpered with much difficulty, her eyes pleading.

"I don't know," he managed, choking back a sob himself. "But how? Where did you find him?"

Slowly she described what had transpired the previous day and that morning.

"And he just agreed to come with you?" he asked when she'd finished.

"No," she shook her head sheepishly. "I told him we could use his knowledge of plant-based medicine in healing and maybe get him a job at the hospital." She looked at him pleadingly. "I couldn't leave him there, Harry. What if we never found him again?"

He nodded curtly, knowing well the dilemma she faced. Heck, he wasn't sure what he wanted, or maybe he did. But his brain fought back furiously- _how could this be true?_ What if this was some sorta trap? Or maybe it was just a coincidence? And yet, how could someone look so strikingly identical?

He let out a groan and looked up at Hermione, he could see so many emotions in those eyes- the very same ones that had stopped living, and for a moment, despite his Auror-instincts questioning him about it, he wanted to hope.

"Excuse me?"

The short tap on the door made the two friends look up at each other and Hermione hurriedly wiped off her tears. She licked her dry lips, met Harry's eyes and reached up to open the door.

"Her- oh, I'm sorry," the man fumbled as he noticed Harry and scratched the back of his neck, smiling uncomfortably. Harry and Hermione caught each other's eyes before Harry went ahead and put his hand forward.

"Hi, Harry Potter."

There was no sign of recognition on the achingly-familiar face that grinned back at him and shook his hand.

"Alex- Alexander Lloyd," he replied.

"Sorry, you were sleeping and we didn't want to disturb you," Harry explained as they moved into the living space and Harry gestured him to sit. The man took the only single couch and sat with a slight hunch, his elbows resting on his knees. Hermione followed them and took her seat next to Harry and the man looked between them once before his eyes rested on Hermione.

"Harry is my best friend," she said and seemed to catch herself from saying more.

"She told me how you saved her life," added Harry. "Thank you."

The man gave them a small, lopsided smile. "Yeah, I just did what anyone in my place would have. Lucky she wasn't hurt much."

A small uncomfortable silence ensued before Harry broke it again.

"So, yeah, she told me how you are great with-" he glanced at Hermione once, before turning back at the man, "-Muggle herbal medicine, right?"

_Alex_ let out a small chuckle and Harry sensed Hermione stiffen a little next to him before she exhaled. "That's what my Grampa used to call 'em," he chuckled. "All his recipes and combinations. Can't take any credit for those!"

"But you know them, right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah."

"Hermione is right- the Hospital could use your knowledge. I could get in a word for you."

_Alex_ looked at Hermione, and for a minute there, Harry was sure he saw Ron behind those eyes. "She's been very kind," _Alex _commented, politely. "I told her I've had no schooling. Why will a hospital employ me? But she insists-"

"She's right," Harry interrupted. "What matters is you managed to heal her without magic and bring her back. Trust me, we could use your knowledge."

Their guest gave a weak smile and looked at his hands. Harry noticed the calluses and the familiar wine-like scars.

"Sorry but- how did you get those?" he asked, hating how his breathing hitched at the sight._ How could someone be so similar? Was this a mere coincidence, or was Alex actually-? _He stopped the thought at the root. No, they couldn't pin hopes before they found out the facts. He couldn't lose Ron again; this time it would be impossible to bring Hermione back.

"These?" _Alex_ chuckled. "Well, just because my Grampa hated magic it wasn't like we never encountered magical beings. A Venomous Tentacula attack when I was fifteen."

"Do you remember the attack?" Harry blurted out before backtracking fast, "I mean, it must've hurt like hell to leave those scars."

"Yeah, bloody bothersome, aren't they?" _Alex _laughed. "One of the few times I remember Grampa use his wand.

Harry let out a stifled breath and heard Hermione whimper softly next to him before she moved away on the pretext of fetching tea for them.

Harry noticed _him _watch her leave and once she was out of earshot, the man exhaled softly.

"Look, mate-"

Harry practically let out a howl at the word and just about managed to stop himself. _Alex, _however, didn't seem to have noticed and continued as if he wanted to finish the conversation before Hermione returned.

"-I don't wanna be a bother to you guys," he said hurriedly. "She insisted a lot for me to come here, and I dunno-" he ran those long fingers through the orange hair frustratedly, "- it's kinda messed up really- but she seemed a little off when I found her? Cried like crazy when she first came 'round. Could have been a concussion," he mused aloud. "And I just wanted to assure she got home safe, y' know? It could've been a nasty fall. No one should go- what did she say, ah- hiking-hiking alone like that."

Harry let out a tired smile. "Yeah," he agreed. "Doesn't really listen to us and, no, trust me, you're being no trouble at all."

"I'm planning on leaving tomorrow."

Harry's eyes snapped back at the man. There were so many unanswered questions- and so many hopes.

"No! I mean-" he cleared his throat. "Do you really wanna go back?"

_Alex _pushed himself back against the backrest of the couch, straightened his long legs and sighed, "I don't know," he paused, silently pondering. "What other options do I have, really?"

"I _could_ try and get you that job," Harry insisted, making up his mind. He needed time to find the answers, to find the truth. "And they do have a dorm there where you could stay."

"Very kind of you, mate, but I-"

"You brought my friend back, Alex," Harry sighed. "That's the least I can do for you."

….

"I'll be back in half an hour," he told Hermione a little later, as Ro- _Alex _sat flipping through one of her books. "Keep an eye out and stay safe."

"He doesn't have a wand, Harry." Her voice was much too hopeful and Harry let out an exhausted sigh.

"Still. I'm casting some extra wards and I'll stay here for the night." He glanced back at their guest. "We take him to the hospital tomorrow."

"Do you think we should we tell the family?" she asked haltingly while both continued to look at the figure, almost soaking in the sight.

"I'm off to Bill's but as for the rest of them," he exhaled tiredly, "better not get any more hopes up yet."


	3. Haze

**Chapter 3. Haze**

Later that night, three people sat at the balcony attached to Hermione's bedroom. Unbeknown to his companions, the tall, young man was greedily soaking in the companionship he had lacked and somehow craved all his life.

He was yet to understand the relationship his hosts shared. 'Best friends from Hogwarts' is what the guy, Harry, had described themselves as, and he found himself wondering if he'd have found such friends if his Grampa hadn't been so paranoid about his security. It was clear, even from the little that he had seen that, the two were incredibly close and Harry was extremely protective of her.

He chanced a glance at her and looked away before it became rather impolite but something about Hermione fascinated him more than he could explain. She had rather pretty features, he decided, the best being those maddening brown curls, but there was something about those eyes- something he couldn't comprehend- and yet they intrigued him enough to trigger his headaches. They seemed to draw him to her… He concentrated his attention on his mug, deciding quietly that he'd have to control the impulse of looking at her.

"And?" she asked, and he met her gaze automatically. Once again, he felt her eyes search for something in his before she looked away hurriedly.

"I don't really remember them," he continued about his parents. "Was too young at the time, but I've heard from Gram that they tortured me as well." Hermione sucked in a breath and he continued with the narration. Ever since the old man died, he had hardly had any conversation. While at the woods, he frequented the hamlet but only for basic supplies- stuff the forest couldn't provide, and even then, he didn't get friendly with many. As it is, he had been planning to shift elsewhere. But something about these two new people made him comfortable. _Perhaps because they were almost his age?_ Or maybe 'cause, unlike the Muggles, they didn't find him strange- or so he hoped.

"So he kept you from attending school?" asked Harry. "But, you were meant to be at Hogwarts, right?"

He decided he liked the bloke. Something about him reminded him of a brother who he was positive he never had. The idea was barmy but then, his memory was not one of his strengths.

"I should've been, shouldn't I?" he replied.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" she asked haltingly. And once again there seemed to be something behind the simple question- something he couldn't put a finger on.

"Around twenty-two. '78 born, so yeah."

"A couple of years above us," said Harry and the two friends shared a look between them. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

"So your grandfather taught you everything?" she asked, looking away far too quickly when he met her gaze this time.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Didn't you ever ask for a wand or y' know, pester him to send you to school?" asked Harry.

"I don't remember if I did, to be honest," he replied. "Maybe because he seldom used a wand himself, and I guess, 'was just used to living the muggle way, travelling from one place to another every few months."

"How did you build- your house?" she inquired and he smiled.

"When you've lived in the woods all your life, you learn to wield the axe. But yeah, Gram did carry out some furniture, shrank and reset it back. Easier that way."

The duo smiled at him and the three of them quietly sipped on their hot chocolate. He had never had one before and decided he loved the taste.

"So, and I'm sorry if I'm being too intrusive, your entire story is so fascinating," Harry smiled, "but how did you guys, I mean, manage money?"

He laughed, "No, you aren't. This is rather nice, I'd say. I've never had people who wanted to know about me. "

"Never?" she asked softly.

"Never," he replied. Their eyes remained locked longer this time, and there was something in his heart he couldn't explain. "Anyways," he turned to Harry, "Gram did venture into the villages and sold his ointments and medicines. Didn't fetch a lot but we didn't need much anyway. And I guess, he did have some wizard money kept aside from the time he worked at the Ministry."

The duo gasped.

"The Ministry of Magic?!"

"Yeah, but that was before I was born. He was, um-" he wracked his rotten memory, "an UnTalkable, I guess?" he asked looking between the two, feeling rather foolish.

"An Unspeakable!" gasped Hermione, and once again, he noticed the two friends shared a look.

"Is it something... nasty?" he asked tentatively.

"No," replied Harry giving him full attention. "It's a very high level in the Ministry in fact, and very secretive," he added solemnly. For a while, Harry seemed lost in thoughts.

"Your parents," began Hermione, "you don't remember them at all?"

He wracked his brains again, hazy pictures flicked in and out. A flash, a wand, loads of hooded figures. He rubbed his forehead with his palms, realising that he had forgotten his potion back in the shack. "Not much," he told her. "I was barely two at the time. But I've heard my mum was a muggle. Grampa used to say I got my eyes and hair from her."

"You wouldn't have any pictures, would you?"

He found her question rather strange. But maybe, it was how young people spoke? He never had any experience before.

"I guess, we did have some pictures, drawings rather. Grampa drew them when I insisted. Most of their stuff was burnt down by the dark wizards."

"Did you never, you know, want to find out who did that to them, take revenge?" asked Harry.

Something strange shone behind the glasses and the longer he looked into the green-eyed boy, the stronger his headache hit back. He wanted to excuse himself and escape to a dark room but he guessed, it'd be rather impolite so he stayed.

"Where were you guys during the Battle of Hogwarts?" Harry asked again, and this time, he flinched and shook so hard that he almost spilled the remaining liquid from his cup.

"Sorry," he managed and pushed himself up, "Will you guys excuse me for a moment? I need to use the loo." He didn't wait for an answer but dashed away. Closing the door, he crashed next to the toilet and threw up.

….

Harry watched him leave in haste, his brows furrowed in contemplation. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him, almost hear the furious rumbling of her brain.

"Harry-?" she began, uncertainly.

"That's a lot to stuff to make up," he said finally.

"And what if he's being honest?" Harry turned back at her and leaned closer. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't know what to think. I don't know what I want," she admitted.

"I know what you want," he mumbled and heard her sniff back a sob.

"We can trace his -his grandfather, right?"

"Yeah, and check if there was indeed an Alexander Lloyd enrolled at Hogwarts."

"What if- there was?" she added quietly, and he groaned aloud, wrapping an arm around her he rubbed her upper arm comfortingly.

"I don't know, Hermione. But I'm gonna find out. And I'm gonna speak to Kingsley the first thing tomorrow, to get - _him_\- a job at St. Mungos at the earliest. It'll be hard to fake spell damage in front of Healers. Maybe they'll also be able to tell us if his being tortured stories are true."

"Harry?" she called again after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Are you- are you sure it was," she exhaled and took a while to continue, "Ron that night?" she said in a very small voice. " Maybe ..."

He turned at her, closing his eyes briefly and swallowed the lump in his throat. It was the first time she had even voiced it. "Wouldn't I have searched for him everywhere if there was even an iota of doubt?" he replied slowly. "It was him," he swallowed thickly. The memory of how he'd found his best mate that night was worse than his worst nightmares. "He also had Wormtail's wand with him, Hermione, his watch and the Delu-"

The rest of the sentence died on his lips as she curled into herself and cried, shaking violently. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, resting his back against the wall he allowed his own tears to fall.

…...

Hermione whimpered herself to sleep and Harry carried her back and tucked her in. While on his way out of her room, he came face-to-face with _Alex_. He didn't know how Hermione was doing it- holding on in front of the bloke- because, despite all his lingering doubts, he could barely hold back from looking at that familiar face he had missed sorely.

"All okay?" he asked, noticing how the bloke seemed to be struggling with something.

"Yeah," _Alex _mumbled.

Harry turned and pulled the door of Hermione's room shut, not missing when the guy glanced at the door once and looked away. There was a moment when he was strongly reminded of Ron. Harry had assumed two years without his best mate would have dulled the pain a little at least- clearly, it hadn't.

"Care for a drink?" he asked, and the guy shook his head.

"Sorry, guess I'll have to pass."

"Are you alright? Need something?"

"Just some fresh air, I reckon," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache.

Harry guided them to the tiny balcony jutting out of the living space. They sat down on the floor, looking at the open sky.

"You look a little peaky," Harry observed aloud while internally wondering if it had anything to do with the fear of being caught.

"I-" _Alex_ cleared his throat, sounding incredibly like Ron. And suddenly Harry snapped around at him; Polyjuice couldn't mimic voice. "Guess, I'm not used to city life, eh?" the bloke chuckled awkwardly, and Harry managed a polite grin. All his calculations were getting mixed up. "Can I ask you something?" the guy asked after some time.

"Yeah,"

"I don't wanna be meddlesome, and you don't even have to answer if I am but, is Hermione alright? I don't know, she looks kinda unwell."

Harry quietly pondered before he spoke. "She's trying to recover from something. It's not been easy," he replied at last, and the guy acknowledged with a little nod and didn't probe further. "It's getting late, I should show you to your room," Harry suggested at last.

"I'll be fine on the couch, really."

"Nah, mate, you're too tall for that," Harry chuckled automatically before his heart twisted painfully remembering Ron.

…..

….

_The Ministry records clearly mentioned Erasmus Lloyd, an Unspeakable, whose family was massacred by the Death Eaters in 1980. Old Erasmus was presumed to have escaped with his grandson while his wife, son and muggle daughter-in-law perished in the attack. No one had ever seen him since, although there were a couple of unverified reports of him being sighted near muggle villages and hamlets. The last one was from back in 1996._

_…..._

_Law of Magical Enforcement had no records of Alexander Lloyd apart from a few stray incidents of magical outbursts when he was between five and eight years old._

_…._

_Ollivander was certain he never sold a wand to any Alexander Lloyd, certainly not in 1989, nor any year after that._

_…..._

_The student records of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry clearly mentioned one Alexander Erasmus Lloyd, son of Arron and Melissa Lloyd, for the year 1989. However, the student never arrived. As per records, a letter was sent to the then Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, from Alexander's grandfather, Erasmus Lloyd- Alex's only family and legal guardian, declining the invitation of admission. Erasmus believed a magical education would seriously jeopardize Alexander's security._

….

Harry Potter dropped back the scrolls on his desk and stared unblinking at an old picture from which three teenagers smiled back at him. He suddenly felt very lonely and looked at the tall, freckled boy at the centre.

_What was he going to tell Hermione?_

….


	4. Pull

"I don't know how to thank you, Harry." He looked around the small room. It was minimalist- a cot, a cupboard, a study table and a couch. There was an attached bath and a small balcony. He had a job. It was perfect.

"It's the least I could do for you," smiled the bloke. He noticed the smile never reached Harry's eyes.

"I'll have to go back once, forgot some stuff back there," he said, scratching the back of his neck. Harry's eyes lingered on his arms and the bloke nodded.

"Yeah, sure."

"I also have to collect Grampa's notes," he added.

"I have some spare time, could come with you both if you want," Harry shrugged.

"Sounds bloody good," he replied, and once more, noticed the sudden change in the younger bloke. "I never asked you," he said as they sat down on the couch. "What do you do for a living? Must be something bloody good to get a bloke like me a job so soon."

"I'm an Auror," Harry replied.

"Auror," he mused aloud, "Like muggle police, ain't it?" He couldn't remember where he had heard the term but it sounded very familiar.

"Yeah," Harry replied with a sad sorta smile before he glanced at his watch. "I'll have to be off. I'll try catch you both later tonight, yeah?"

He nodded, smiling. He still had no clue where he fit between the two best friends who went back together for such a long time, but it felt good to be included. Harry left and Alex pulled out the small bag to grab a spare shirt. Hermione had promised to show him around, and he found himself rather looking forward to seeing her. _Although it had been barely a couple of hours since he had seen her last_, he admitted to himself a little sheepishly.

He changed quickly, pulling on his blue jumper over the fresh shirt and waited while setting up his meagre belongings. He'd have to go back to fetch his potions if nothing else, he reckoned. At least, his headache hadn't bothered him again after the first night. But he couldn't risk it. The visions were a lot more intense the last time. He could almost see a great dog attack him, precisely biting him at the same spot on his leg where he had hurt himself after that nasty fall from the tree when he was seven.

The visions always left him confused, blurring the lines between reality and dreams. Restless he moved towards the only window in the room; it looked over a patch of green within the Hospital grounds. He had spent a couple of days outside the woods now, just two days out of his twenty-two years, and yet, somehow it didn't feel as odd it should've.

Soft footsteps sounded outside his door and he turned as if drawn irresistibly to the sound. She smiled a little. He knew, just like Harry, Hermione's smiles never reached her eyes either. He quietly wondered what the two had seen in their short lives to have broken them so much- for the two were broken, of that he was certain.

Hermione looked around the room and bit her lower lip, seemingly struggling for words. "All set?" she asked at last.

"Not much to set really," he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders a little and once again, there was something in those eyes, something he couldn't figure out.

"We'll go down and fetch your other stuff soon."

For some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, he found himself watching her before his brain caught up and he looked way. "Shall we go?" he asked hurriedly, and she nodded once. He followed behind her.

"I prefer working nights. More peaceful," she said as they walked side by side.

"Suits me fine," he replied.

She was wearing a green jumper with a pair of jeans today. As he matched steps with her smaller ones, he found himself watching her- yet again. He had spent two days at her place and he had noticed she wasn't very vocal, but even in the quiet between them, he would sometimes feel her eyes lingering on him. And on the rare occasions where she held his gaze for longer than a heartbeat, her eyes seemed to scream out a hundred questions. And then, she'd look away. He wondered what she was recovering from, wondered if he could help somehow. But he still had known her for barely a couple of days, and he couldn't bring himself to ask.

He followed her quietly as she showed him the labs, the massive library and the cafeteria. It was absolutely barmy, how he was almost certain that he had done this before- followed her, walked beside her-_or perhaps it was just longing?_ He sighed quietly. _Perhaps it was just the spell damage at work again._

….

_Two weeks later_

Ever since Harry told her that Alex was not lying about his past, Hermione often questioned why she was still alive when a part of her was gone- _when her Ron..._

Curled on the couch at home, she pulled out the old picture of Ron's sixteen-year-old self from the diary and ran her fingers over it, trying to remember the feel of his skin beneath her fingers, the mad way her heart thudded at his touch, how alive he made her feel when their eyes met. Tears pooled her eyes again and she forced herself to keep breathing. For minutes, possibly longer, all she did was try to hold the pain in, to make no noise; it was excruciatingly difficult to contain. She wondered if the pain simply wanted to burst out through every pore on her skin, rip her apart in the process. For a long time, she just focused on her breathing and the image of Ron. Eventually, she succeeded in cutting off the noise at least. She had learned to cry quietly, learned to hide it from Harry, not that it fooled him. But she hoped she hid it well from the stranger who had got entangled in her life by her own folly.

She looked at Ron's smiling face again and a strangled cry escaped. Sometimes it felt as if the grief aimed to choke her, starting from the inside out. The pain was everywhere, it was bursting at the seams inside her and it was also all-encompassing. It never went away, it never dulled- just kept her suspended in a limbo between life and death.

_Come back, Ron... _she pleaded in the empty house as a sharp cry escaped before she could hold it in, and she snapped the diary shut and held it close to her heart, aching to feel Ron wrap his arms around her.

Hours later, possibly even days, she sniffed with much difficulty and tucked the diary deep inside her bag. Wiping her face on the sleeve of Ron's jumper, she dragged herself off the couch and into the loo. A little later, ready for work but hardly feeling any better, she stood in front of the mirror. She couldn't recognise the girl who looked back at her.

Hermione didn't want to go to work anymore. Yet, she did, just to look at that face again. She knew she was making the ache worse and, _wouldn't it be easier to just stay away? Get accustomed to the inevitable truth?_ But her heart seemed to feel otherwise, or perhaps it was just more hungry for pain at this point- maybe her subconscious was hoping that if it kept the game on, one day the scales would tip over and she'd die of grief. The plan didn't seem half bad.

She knew Harry was still holding onto some hope. The Healers were spiking Alex's drink with potions regularly on his instructions to identify if the guy showed any signs of memory tampering. The night shifts were only arranged to keep him away from the rest of the team, to avoid him from getting to know about Ron. So far, they had found nothing otherwise; all that he had said about his past was found to be true. Hence they could not tell another soul. Bill had come down once; _Alex _had looked at him curiously and smiled. Hermione was sure she had never seen the oldest Weasley sibling look so miserable. He had left soon after.

As for Hermione, she knew she couldn't dare raise her hopes again.

She tried her best not to look into his eyes- _how were they just the same shade as Ron's?_ How was it possible that every freckle on that face was familiar? His smile, the way he scratched his neck absentmindedly, the way his eyes lingered on her…

She tried to tune him out, _but even the voice was just the same- the way he said her name…_

And it didn't end with his features and habits_. _He too noticed her tea had gotten cold, identified when she was at her breaking point, pouring over the notes they had acquired from his home and suggested a break. He too worked around silently but every action proved he was watching, paying attention to the little things usually no one did. She would shiver slightly as a cold draft from the window hit her and he'd walk up and pull it shut.

_Why did he remind her so much of Ron and yet at the same time, remind her that he wasn't Ron?_ All the proofs were all stacked against had found no clue in his grandfather's work that hinted at foul play. He showed no signs of memory modification, and she knew the Healers would come to that conclusion soon.

_And where would they go from there?_ _She had nothing to back up what her heart desperately wanted to believe..._

_Come back, Ron…Please? _she begged again in the quiet of the room.

…_.._

"These are very detailed," Hermione commented as she ran her ink-stained fingers over his grandfather's diaries.

It was close to midnight, and they were at the table she had shown him the first night. Tonight it was littered with parchments and quills and one of the several sets of the old man's diaries. He had never realised there were so many until they boxed them up two weeks ago. The wardrobe, Hermione had declared, was magically enlarged. They held boxes upon boxes of plant samples and a fair number of bottled potions and ointments. He had not forgotten to grab his potions, however, keeping them aside, taking them regularly and not mentioned them to his new friends. He genuinely liked them and for whatever reasons they must have had to trust a stranger, the two seemed to have accepted him as a part of their group. He loved being around them, didn't want them to think he was barmy.

His visions hadn't bothered him since the first night, but of late, he had found himself in a very sticky situation. Hermione and he shared long work hours together, and while she kept mostly to herself, making notes and only asking him something when she couldn't understand the handwriting, he found himself thinking about her- even during the time she wasn't around. It was barmy how at times when he looked at her, he felt as if he was living for her, as if his existence was tied to her somehow. It didn't make any sense at all.

He knew she watched him while he wasn't looking and yet he was sure she tried her best to never look into his eyes, looking away the moment they met. He hated it but never complained. He wasn't quite sure what defined her 'friendship' with Harry, but he sure didn't want to come between them just in case there was something else. But the very thought hurt him in a way he knew was totally inappropriate.

"What does this mean?" she said suddenly, and he focused on the real girl in front of him, drawing his attention away from her image that followed him all the time.

She pointed at a section of text and handed him the small notebook, their fingers grazing in the most innocent way, and her eyes snapped up at him as if the touch scorched her. This time he held her gaze, trying desperately to untangle the mystery that she was. He allowed his fingertip to graze over her finger just once more and found her eyes taking in the act, her expression pained. He removed his hand immediately, his chest hurting unbearably and she met his eyes again. Slowly, her eyes pooled over and overflowed. Hermione looked away and pushed her chair back. Turning around, she choked on a sob before clearing her throat.

"I will get us something to drink," she said in a pained voice, as if eager to leave.

He waited for her to return, a part of him fearful that she wouldn't. But she came back carrying two mugs of hot chocolate and placed them at the edge of their table. Looking at him once she smiled weakly before picking one up and looked away.

"Am I bothering you with my presence, Hermione?" he asked, quietly.

As he stood up, he could see her profile as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She licked her lips and placed her mug back on the table. Wrapping her arms around herself. she rubbed her palms over her upper arms as if to generate some warmth and shook her head a little. "No," she replied softly, voice still teary.

"Then why does it seem like I am?" he insisted. He could clearly see the tear stains on her cheeks and hated the person responsible for it- himself.

"It's nothing," she whispered and then turned a smidge, attempting a weak smile. "Really."

Egged on by something he couldn't really place, he paced ahead until he stood in front of her. He didn't miss how her arms reached behind to grab the table for support, her breathing hitched and she looked up into his eyes as if searching desperately for something- _hoping perhaps?_

Slowly, tentatively, he took one step forward and placed his hands over hers.

The visions crashed on him like a dam had broken its barriers somewhere. Image upon image flashed in front of his eyes- hurting his head as if it would rip apart his nerves at the sheer force of it-smiling faces of people he had never seen in his life, jets of red, green and gold, a green smoke that seemed to morph into shapes, a burst of maniacal laughter, and smiling faces of Harry and Hermione, all blended in together.

He screamed out in pain and collapsed right in front of her.

….


	5. 5: Glimpses

"Harry!" she gasped and ran into his arms.

"Is he alright?" he asked urgently, rubbing her back.

She swallowed thickly, not missing how Harry too was just as worried, and how he had come down immediately despite the odd hour. She pulled herself away to look into his eyes noticing the same fear she knew must be visible in hers.

"The Healers are attending to him," she told him haltingly, pointing at the door. The two childhood friends looked at each other and Harry groaned as they collapsed on the chairs before them.

"What happened?" he asked, not bothering to hide the concern or fear anymore.

"I don't know," she confessed quietly. "He just-just screamed and collapsed. Appeared as if he was getting a seizure." She wiped off the moisture from her cheeks on the back of her sleeve and lay her head sideways to rest on his shoulder. "Why does he remind me so much of Ron, Harry?" she confessed in a small voice, unable to hide the guilt. Straight ahead was the closed-door beyond which the supposed stranger lay. Another bout of pain tore through her. "And not just because he looks like him," she added softly.

"He reminds me of Ron too," he responded quietly, painfully.

"We've no proof it's him though, do we?" she said after a long time.

"No, we don't," he agreed, exhaled and rested his head back against the wall.

They continued to stare at the expanse of wood for a long time before she spoke again.

"How's Ginny?"

"Still touring Ireland. She'll come back next month," he replied in a monotone, grabbed her hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over her knuckles. "Molly has been asking a lot about you."

Hermione sniffed, wiping off the moisture from her eyes again. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. Said everything's just the same as always."

She managed a small nod in reply, not trusting her voice.

"Harry?" she called again although her throat seemed to constrict with the pain in her chest.

"Hmm?"

"Is it… wrong that I'm scared of losing him too?" she asked at last, unable to hide the guilt or hold back her tears.

"No," he breathed softly.

"But what if... he is not R-Ron?" she choked.

He took his time to respond and his voice was thick with emotions when he did. "Ron would've wanted you to be happy either way, Hermione."

….

The scene was a little too reminiscent of his sixth year when Harry entered the ward to find Alex on the hospital bed, his back resting against the cushion. The bloke grinned sheepishly, "Sorry!"

He moved over briskly to the bed, pulled the lone chair and sat down. "You scared us, mate."

Alex looked at him guiltily. "Didn't mean to."

"What happened?" he asked, just holding back the last minute from grabbing him in a hug.

"Erm," he began, scratching the back of his neck, "I - I haven't been honest with you guys," he admitted slowly. "The torture from when I was two has left lasting damage."

Harry swallowed, his heart hammering. "What exactly does it do?" he managed.

"Messes up with my memories mostly," Alex replied. "Leaves me with visions of things that never happened."

"And- what did you see today?" Harry asked slowly, pleading with himself not to hope- not yet.

Alex, rubbed his head with his fingers as if to get rid of a headache. "Can't remember clearly, mate," he groaned.

Harry sighed. Perhaps the Healers would be able to give them better answers. He patted Alex on his shoulder. "It's alright," he exhaled. "You better get some rest."

Alex nodded.

Harry caught himself looking at the familiar face longingly and decided he ought to leave. "I'll see you in a few hours. Looks like they'll keep you in for a couple of days, run some more tests," he informed.

"Okay," shrugged the bloke. Harry had almost left his chair when he called again. "Will you mind if I ask you something?" he asked a little tentatively.

"No?"

"I was wondering, n-not like any of my business really, but- you and Her-Hermione..?"

Despite everything that was driving him insane with worry and confusion, Harry let out a chuckle, only to be bombarded with memories so strong that it made it hard for him to continue looking at those blue orbs he had known forever and yet, not known at all.

"She's like a sibling and she feels the same way about me. It's always been that way." His eyes lingered way longer at the freckled face this time as they seemed to heave a sigh of relief before looking at him sheepishly as he grinned. "She's talking to the Healers. Will meet you in a bit," Harry added before he left.

..…

He noticed her dishevelled state as she walked in slowly and took the lone chair. Fighting back an insane urge to hold her in his arms, he allowed himself to watch her instead. Hermione, with her eyes downcast, fidgeted with her fingers before she looked at him, worry marring her pretty features.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Better, thanks," he responded, not taking his eyes off her, a strange longing brewing in his heart, intensifying the more he looked into those eyes. "What did the Healers say?" he asked at last.

She looked terribly conflicted. "They said, this couldn't have been your first seizure."

"No, it wasn't."

Her eyes snapped up at him, and he held her gaze. "They think your memory has been tampered with," she added slowly, watching him.

"Yeah, it has. When I was two. Grampa said what those dark wizards did leave lasting damage to my brain. He also said it will probably last as long as I live."

She seemed to struggle to breathe at his words and the craving to pull her into his arms intensified. He folded his hands at his chest to hold himself back.

"How do you deal with them?" she asked.

"He made a potion for me. I usually take it every day," he confessed at last.

"You've been taking it all these days as well?" she gasped, and he couldn't figure out what to make of the way her voice cracked as she spoke.

"Yeah, except the first day when I came to London. I hadn't brought it along. Didn't know I'd be staying."

"But you brought it along the next time we visited the woods," she deduced, and he nodded his head in answer.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Her voice held a fair bit of hurt.

"Didn't seem important at the time," he replied, honestly. "And I didn't want you guys to think I was barmy."

She looked away and he waited. He could sense something existed between them, but he didn't quite know what. There was a strong pull he couldn't ignore, and he thought she felt it too but fought it vehemently.

Hermione appeared bone tired as if she hadn't rested properly in a long time. "You didn't catch any sleep, did you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she smiled a little, as if on the verge of saying something else when a nurse entered and handed him a goblet.

"Dreamless Sleeping Potion," she informed the two of them normally before suddenly seemed to take a better look at both of them before turning sharply at him and let out a shocked gasp.

"_W-Weasley?!"_ the newcomer asked Hermione, and a shadow of pain clouded Hermione's features before she left her seat hurriedly and fumbled ahead, muttering something to the nurse who left but not without a backward glance at him when she had reached the door.

"What was that?" he asked confused.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times before she looked away uncomfortably. "N-nothing."

"What's a weasley?" he asked.

"Nothing really. You need to take that," she pointed at the goblet which he was still holding. Thoroughly flabbergasted, he drank the contents in one go. He wanted to tell her to stay and chat with him but the potion made him very drowsy and he just remembered enough to place the goblet on the side table before he slumped back on the pillows.

…..

On a very personal note, Harry did not like visiting Shell Cottage. It reminded him of the war, their escape from Malfoy Manor, Dobby and most importantly, Ron.

And yet, in the past couple of years, he had found himself visiting the eldest Weasley siblings more often than he could count. It wasn't just that, of all the Weasley brothers, Bill reminded him of Ron the most, but Bill did not ask many questions and allowed Harry to just be. Somewhere deep down, Harry reckoned Bill found in him the link to his youngest brother. Neither of the two men ever spoke about it.

When he knocked on the door, the clock had past two in the morning. But as Bill opened the door, it seemed as if the older guy had been expecting a visit anyway, perhaps not that very night, but he had.

"Can you come with me?" Harry found himself asking. "I need to check on something."

Bill nodded and left hurriedly to change.

Standing at the deck, with the familiar sound of waves crashing on the rocky cliffside, Harry tried hard to control the pounding in his heart.

For the past two weeks, he had spent every spare minute looking for clues- any indication that the stranger had a dark past, that it was a trick. He had pulled out all the stops to ensure a high level of security around Alex's dorm. He had ensured that Alex met the least number of people possible, and the unavoidable handful who met him were sworn to secrecy not to speak _to_ or _about_ him. While the Auror in him tried his best to keep themselves safe in case Alex was indeed an intruder, but it was mainly his fears that tried to maintain a distance. He knew he was scared of hoping, worried that he'd not be able to survive if his hopes dashed. But every investigation had only proved that the bloke wasn't lying. And despite his internal arguments, the more time he spent with Alex, the more he felt his hopes rising.

However, the questions were plenty. And he still couldn't fathom how it was even possible.

He and Bill wasted no time walking to the shack once they had Apparated to the woods, and Harry used the time to brief Bill on the latest developments.

"The Healers found traces of heavy memory modifications on him." Even though neither of the wizards broke step, Harry heard a sharp intake of breath. "They also think it can't be twenty years old; some are definitely more recent. They were still running tests when I left."

"What are you expecting to find here?" Bill asked, his voice solemn.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Hermione and I packed everything we found but, I've been wondering. What if Erasmus used some other charms to hide stuff? He was an Unspeakable, surely he knew some uncommon ones. What if we missed something? Maybe, some clues somewhere?"

"What about the scars on his arms- the ones he said were from the Venomous Tentacula?" Bill asked.

They had almost reached the shack and Harry paused.

"They are running tests on those," he replied, finding it harder to keep from hoping.

Harry held back as the Curse Breaker stood before the shack, waving his wand. The air around them crackled with magic.

"Very muggle like," he replied at last and paced ahead to the door while Harry followed a step behind.

There weren't many rooms, only two in fact. The first doubled as a kitchen and living space, the second a small bedroom. A small pantry stocked minimal supplies, mostly wood.

"We checked the wardrobe," Harry gestured as they entered the bedroom and lit up the candles. "Basic extension charms. We got most-"

The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he noticed Bill stare it curiously.

"Stand back," instructed Bill grimly, and he obeyed without question.

Bill took ten minutes, casting one spell after another after which there was a small sound of something small drop with a thud. For a moment Bill looked at the wardrobe as if he was thoroughly confused and then he, he walked ahead and pulled on the handles, casting his wand light inside the cavernous floor of the wood and picked up the article- a small, leather-bound diary.

As he flipped it open, both wizards cast their wand beams on it. It was handwritten.

"Ancient Runes?" Harry asked eagerly. _Hermione could read it easily._

"Umm, no," declared Bill, his brows furrowed. "The symbols are slightly different. These make no sense. But maybe… Hold on, he was an Unspeakable, wasn't he?" he asked instead.

"Yeah."

"Maybe we need to inform Kingsley, Harry. We need an Unspeakable to translate this."

As the duo walked outside, the diary shoved deep inside Harry's pocket, Bill came to a sudden halt. He turned at Harry, and even in the faint wand-light Harry could see deep distress on the older man's features.

"You remember Mum's clock, Harry?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah," he replied.

"You remember, after Ron, _Hermione_ in fact- I removed Ron's spoon from it?" he asked, voice thick with emotion.

"Yes," he replied automatically. He had never questioned it when he had found Bill removing it, no one had. He couldn't bear to look at it anyway. Seeing Ron's stuck on 'dead' would have been too much.

"It was stuck on 'missing'."

"WHAT?!" he gasped, his heart pounding thunderously.

"I had just assumed it was malfunctioning," Bill replied tiredly and exhaled. "As it is, it was hard seeing Hermione that way, I didn't want Mum to start hoping for the impossible too."

They remained quiet for the rest of the journey, and it was only when they were back at the Shell Cottage that Bill spoke again. "Harry?" he called. "Does he look exactly the same?" The longing in the words was hard to miss.

Harry nodded, "Yes." It had been bothering him since the first day.

"So even if this guy isn't Ron, and if Ron is actually- " Bill paused, " well, he can't be taking Polyjuice-"

"-because if Polyjuice worked with people who are no longer-" Harry gulped thickly, "-_alive_, Barty Crouch Junior would have killed Moody at the start of our fourth year," he finished for Bill.

…..….

He woke up to an empty room, hours later by the look of the clock that hung on the wall.

Still groggy, he pushed off his covers and sat up straight to look around. The room had nothing else, no other beds or patients. Placing his hands behind his head, he lay back down wondering if it'd be a good idea to venture out. He wasn't exactly sick- he had had these episodes before.

He was just about to get off the bed when the door opened and the same nurse entered again. She placed the food-tray on the table and adjusted it next to his bed, giving him a curious look before she smiled.

"Please have your breakfast. I'm supposed to give you your potions."

"Erm, excuse me. What did you call me last night?" he asked and noticed how she stifled.

"Nothing, Sir," she replied, looking rather uneasy.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No, Sir," she replied hurriedly. "These are the potions prescribed for you," she said indicating the vials next to his food.

"What are they for?" he inquired. There seemed to be too many of those.

"The Healer will explain in a while. They are just waiting for Mr Potter and Miss Granger's arrival."

"Then I'll wait for them to explain before I take them, yeah?" he informed firmly, feeling rather annoyed. He was not fucking sick. He had been having these episodes for as long as he could remember, and doing fine with his Grampa's concoctions without being treated like a fucking patient.

He glanced once at the door. "What's a weasley?" he asked and noticed her fidget.

"No-nothing."

"Have you been ordered not to tell me?" he inquired, unable to cut off the annoyance in his voice.

"I- I'm just doing my job, Sir," she exclaimed wringing her hands.

"I understand and I really appreciate it," he told her softly. "But please? It's important I know."

The nurse looked at the door before turning back at him. "Please don't tell anyone I told you? It can cost me my job."

"I won't, I promise," he assured her.

She looked rather torn but eventually, it seemed her curiosity won over. "I thought you were Mr Weasley?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"Who?"

"Ron Weasley?! You don't know?! Harry Potter and Hermione Granger's best friend?" As he continued to look at her, confused, she went on. "War Hero? One of the Golden Trio? You look so much like him! There were pictures of the three everywhere."

As he pondered over her words that made no sense, he continued to stare at the food in front of him.

"Now please have your potions?"

"Keep them, I'll have those myself," he told her, and she looked very conflicted.

"Please have your meal, I'll come back in a bit to help you with your medication," she suggested at last.

He nodded nonchalantly, feeling rather miffed and she left in a hurry before reaching the door and coming back to the bed again. "Please don't tell them I told you! I'm not sure, but I guess no one is allowed to tell you about him. I am substituting for my friend who was supposed to be here. She fell sick suddenly," she explained hurriedly.

He took in all the information, feeling hurt bubbling inside him. "I won't," he assured her.

…..

When three senior Healers accompanied by Harry and Hermione came into his room, he hadn't still touched his food. The nurse stood awkwardly by the bed and looked up guiltily at the healers before addressing Hermione.

"He won't have any of the potions, Miss Granger," she added helplessly. Hermione, he noticed shook her head a little as if she had expected it all along, a small, rare smile graced her features. "I'm sorry about that. Don't worry, I'll see to it that he does."

The nurse left hurriedly.

"I've had these episodes before. Trust me, there is no reason for you all to get so paranoid about it," he grumbled, mostly to Harry.

"Mr Wea-"

An awkward silence ensued when they all looked at each other before Harry cleared his throat. "They have run a few tests while you were asleep, Alex. You've got enormous spell damage on your memories, mate."

"And I've already told you, Harry, I know that," he snapped. He rubbed his forehead again as a dull pain began to throb behind his temples.

"Mr Lloyd, you show signs of extensive memory modifications," explained the elderly gentleman who appeared to be the senior-most in the group. "We think you should take your potions and allow us to run some more tests to find out the extent of the damage."

His eyes sought Hermione. She was looking at him with a strange longing in her eyes. For once he understood the reason and it hurt tremendously. He wondered about the bloke- Ron Weasley- and wondered where the fellow was.

"Do I get some time to decide or am I obligated to go through with the treatment?" he inquired of the healers.

The Healers looked at Harry. "We can only suggest. We can't force treatment on you," replied the elderly gentleman.

"In that case, I need a day's time, please."

It appeared as if they agreed halfheartedly. As Harry saw them out, Hermione came forward to look at the vials the nurse had left behind on the table.

"Why are you resisting treatment so vehemently?" she asked without looking away.

"Why are you and Harry insisting on it so vehemently?" he retorted. He heard her suck in a breath.

"I've done fine with Grampa's potions so far, Hermione," he insisted and heard her stifle as she hurriedly placed the vials back on the table.

"What if-" she began and stopped abruptly.

"What if I am this Weasley guy everyone assumes I am?" he asked, and Hermione gasped, turning around to meet his eyes before looking away. She looked miserable. "What's his name?" he asked, dropping all pretence, hoping he was able to hide the hurt and feigning ignorance only to keep the nurse from getting into trouble.

She looked away. "_Ron_…" she whispered. The longing behind the word, the way she uttered it made his heart twist painfully.

"What happened?" he asked, watching as she heaved, as if every moment was tearing her apart- as if she'd run away if she could, as if she'd rather not have this discussion at all.

"He- he died," she exhaled, choking on the words, not even bothering to hide the act of wiping away her tears.

Now he knew.

Everything seemed to make sense now- her outburst the first time she saw him, her insistence on bringing him to London, the reason why she and Harry readily included him in their group, all the care, the longing, even the way she watched him…

The pain was overbearing. He tried telling himself that he was barmy for feeling betrayed. He barely knew her, both of them in fact, for a little more than two weeks- but his heart didn't listen.

It wasn't for him at all - it was all for Ron Weasley.

"When were you going to tell me I look just like him, Hermione?" he asked, hating himself for not being able to hide the hurt from his words this time. She let out the smallest of whimpers and didn't meet his eyes. "Isn't that why you brought me back? Isn't just my resemblance with him the reason why you and Harry have been so kind to me? Some barmy old git I'm to think I actually found some friends," he muttered bitterly.

She collapsed at the foot of his bed and cried and he continued to watch helplessly. It wasn't his place to support her; he wasn't the one she needed or wanted.

"It's him you see when you look at me, don't you?" he said before he could stop himself. She buried her face in her palms, and he swore softly to himself. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he declared quietly after a while, and she turned to look at him, her bloodshot eyes pleading- _but_, he reminded himself that-_ it wasn't for him_. "I'm really sorry for everything you've been through. But you are just making it worse now," he added kindly. "You are just making it so much worse for yourself, Hermione," he repeated, feeling more lonely than he had ever felt.

The thought of leaving her and Harry seemed to rip him apart but he knew it was the right thing to do. With him, they were just clinging on to the past. It wasn't even about him. And although he didn't know the bloke at all, he was sure Ron Weasley wouldn't have wanted to see his best friends so miserable, he'd never have wanted them to stop living.

"You don't have to go," she whispered quietly, voice thick meeting his eyes and weakening his resolve.

"I have no reason to stay," he replied. "And, I shouldn't."

"You have a job."

She seemed to be struggling to hold on to straws and he desperately wanted to stand by her, help her heal. But he couldn't do that. If he stayed, she'd never get over Ron- he'd always remind her of him.

"I didn't come here for a job, didn't stay back for the job either. I can live in the woods, alone; I've done that all my life." He paused and imagined going back to the shack, travelling from one place to the other like he had done all his life. He could do it. But he'd never see her again. Regret was a funny thing, he decided. "I came here for you," he professed slowly "to see you reach home safe. And, if I stayed, I'd have done that just for you, Hermione."

She looked away and it was a while before she spoke. "Then stay…"

He chuckled sadly. "I can't. Shouldn't. I can't be your Ron and you know that," he sighed, even though he knew he'd never be able to move on either. "You'll never recover if I stay. You are looking at _him_ when you look at me. But I'm Alex," he said softly, miserably. "Hermione doesn't need Alex, Hermione needs her Ron."

She sat facing the other way, wiping off her silent tears for a while, and then left without a backward glance.

Harry entered not a minute later. He could see the younger boy had met Hermione outside. Their eyes met and there was an unbearable amount of sadness in Harry's features.

"You could have told me, Harry," he tried to sound angry, but it came out more like regret.

"We were hoping, Alex," the younger boy confessed as he sat down on the bed, and hung his head.

"I know that now," he said as he patted Harry on the shoulder, "but you understand, I gotta leave."

Harry turned, "What if we are right?"

"And what if you are wrong?" he countered. "What if I'm just Alex?" he spat, angry mostly at himself, frustrated at the rising desire for Harry to be right. But it was bloody insane and downright impossible _and he didn't want to hold onto false hopes_. "For fuck sake, mate, I _know_ my whole bloody life! I _know_ I'm Alex, Harry!" But even as he said that, the tiny hopeful part in him grew and began to wonder...

"But your memories have been modified-" Harry countered adamantly as if he had pegged all his hopes on it. "Ro-"

"ALEX!" he yelled. "CAN'T YOU FUCKING SEE?" he screamed throwing up his hands. He turned around, left the bed in haste and began pacing. "You guys want _Ron_ back-" he said turning at the bloke, "-a-and I-" he ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly, "What a lucky bloke he must've been to have you both!" he added miserably.

Harry looked at him for a long time and seemed to struggle a bit before he spoke. "I went back to the shack again last night, and- and I found something-," he flattened the fringe on his forehead, a habit Alex had noticed Harry had, "-one of his diaries."

"_So? _We have stacks of those already, remember?"

"It's in Runes, mate. The symbols are not common. I'm working on getting it translated. Please give us a few more days?" he begged.

"I clearly remember my whole life, a'right? Okay, not so clearly perhaps but-"

"_Please?_ For her sake?" countered Harry, and he hated the bloke for hitting a raw nerve so he looked away. "I've seen the way you look at her," Harry added in a softer voice.

Rubbing his forehead again, he walked back to the bed and sat down next to Harry.

"What exactly happened to Ron?" he asked tiredly.

Harry seemed to struggle with the words and took to staring at the wall before he spoke. "Died in the last battle. Took a fair few Death Eaters with him."

"And you know well it was him, then why-"

"-I don't know," interjected Harry looking at him, "but-"

"And Hermione?" he asked for he knew Harry had no solid proof, just hopes.

Harry exhaled tiredly. "She-she just stopped. Living, reacting. Never cried, never believed." He shook his head, looking like a man who had seen too much, borne too much grief. "Went around searching for him, wrote around asking if anyone had seen him," he continued. "When the magical way failed, she went searching the muggle way. Wrote to all the post offices in Britain. Whenever someone replied of having seen a person who looked similar, she'd go away. Came back empty-handed and began searching again." Harry exhaled tiredly and hung his head.

He couldn't even imagine the extent of grief she had gone through, and the desire to help her heal raised its head again.

_So what if she was and would certainly continue to be in love with Ron and only him? Couldn't he, Alex, be Ron for her sake? She'd most likely never love him back for who he was, he'd probably fill in for her lost-love all his life but ... she would get some respite from her grief, wouldn't she?_

"In a way, I had lost her too," said Harry, breaking the silence. "Even if you are only Alex, doesn't change the fact that you really brought her back."

As his headache chose that precise moment to come back with a vengeance, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What if you _are_ Ron, Alex?" asked Harry quietly.

"You know it's barmy, right?" he chuckled mirthlessly.

"Trust me, mate, with our history- nothing's barmy enough," replied Harry.

As his anger ebbed, he found it more difficult to deny that he was in love with Hermione. Couldn't deny that he felt incredibly close to these two people, as if he had known them forever. _What if Harry was right? What if this was his life?_

Moreover, there was nothing in his old life to go back to. And as much as he denied, he knew he'd come back for _her_.

He just couldn't figure out how Grampa fit in the story._ And he wanted to know,_ he decided silently.


	6. Awake

For one entire day, he didn't see Hermione at all.

While the healers appeared more frequently than he could count, prodding, probing, taking blood samples and casting spells and feeding him potions, he waited, glancing every now and then at the door, hoping every second.

Amidst all the magical terms that the Healers exchanged amongst themselves, he had already figured out the gist. And by that evening, while he still waited for Hermione, he finally knew what he wanted to do with his life. It could be called reckless, but he reckoned that he didn't particularly care.

Harry arrived looking like he hadn't had any rest in days. Probably he actually hadn't.

As the younger boy crashed on his bed right next to where he sat, looking slightly crazed out, she walked in too.

_Yes, he definitely knew what he was going to do._

Without a word, she walked up to the potion cabinet beside his bed and picking up one of the many vials, poured a few drops in a goblet of water and handed it to him.

He took it wordlessly, and not taking his eyes off her, drank it till the last drop. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve he placed the goblet back. She seemed on the verge of saying something before she moved away, pulled out a wand, conjured a comfortable looking couch and collapsed on it.

"All your memories are under tremendous spells, mate," Harry provided finally, and he looked away from her to watch him instead.

"Gathered as much from their conversations today," he replied.

"They think there is still something in your blood that keeps many of your memories from surfacing. But the levels vary, indicating that it's something that has to be recast on you after certain intervals."

"In my blood?" he looked incredulously between the two. He wasn't very familiar with how magical spells worked but- "So they think someone's still casting spells on me? They're barmy, how is that even possible?!"

"What if it's the potion?"

He met her eyes and there was something distinctly bright in her eyes, a flash of brilliance perhaps. It made her features light up as he had never seen before.

"What potion?" Harry asked, looking between the two.

"The one Grampa prepared to help me keep my headaches at bay," he replied, feeling very uneasy. _Surely Gram couldn't…_

"When did you take it last?" she asked, for once not looking away when their eyes met.

"Last night?"

"And they said the values have decreased since morning," she pointed out. "What if they are not to suppress your headaches at all but to suppress your memories?"

"Maybe we should send the potion for testing," Harry suggested and he nodded slightly, feeling guilty for doubting the old man but he needed answers.

"What-" he began but was interrupted as the healer team walked in again. After more chairs were conjured and everyone had picked a seat for themselves, the elderly wizard, who he now knew was called Healer Dippet, began speaking.

"Mr Lloyd, our tests reveal that you have been subjected to immense amounts of memory modification spells. At this juncture, anything you know can either be the truth or visions that have been planted. It's incredibly hard to distinguish between the two."

"So, you are saying I'm absolutely barmy?" he asked, feeling rather annoyed.

"No, no, we are not saying that, of course. But seems like large chunks of your memories are imbibed from someone else."

"What does that even mean?" he asked incredulously.

"It means someone planted their memories into you. So they might all be real experiences- just not necessarily your own."

He looked at the two faces he had started to care for and found both of them looking ashen.

"What can you do?" Harry asked on their behalf, and the Healers looked amongst themselves. Going by their reactions, it did not look very hopeful.

"There is a chance that he will recover, but- we aren't sure if his brain will survive so much intrusion. As it is, it's clear it has been touched by very dark magic in recent years."

"In recent years- but?"

"Yes, he has," she replied, interrupting and looking straight at him. "Twice," she added quietly. There was something strange in her eyes, something that seemed to bind him to her.

"If I take this up- this treatment," he began looking at her before slowly turning around at the healers, "-will I get back what I've lost?"

"Possibly but we can't rule out the risk of more damage."

"But it is possible that I'll get back my memories, yeah? The actual ones?"

The healers seem to hesitate. "Yes, if your brain is able to sustain the spells."

He paused for a moment, "And it can go either way, yeah? Either prove I am someone else, or ascertain that I've been Alex all along and they are the result of my childhood torture?"

The Healers looked at him for a moment and he could clearly see pity. "You are right," Healer Dippet replied.

He glanced once more at Harry and Hermione. Well, it did make it risky but, he looked at Hermione again. _There was a chance, no matter how slim._

"Alright then. When can we do it?" he asked them.

"Are you-" snapped Harry.

"NO!" she yelled.

"Healers, we need some time!" she said on their behalf, and the Healers nodded solemnly.

"Even if you agree, Mr Llyod, we will still need more time to prepare for a situation like this. We'll need to bring in experts."

….

As soon as the door closed behind the Healers, he let out a sigh and lifted himself off the bed.

"At least get me out of this place now?" he asked looking between the other two. Hermione eyed him with a determination he hadn't seen before, she sighed audibly and picked herself off the couch.

"I'm going to make arrangements for him to shift back home with us," she declared, and without bothering for an answer left the room.

"You are not doing this!" Harry spat as soon as she left. Picking himself off the bed he began pacing around the room furiously.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Harry?" he asked, walking off to the couch instead. "Weren't the two of you convincing me for treatment barely two nights ago? And now, when _I _want to do this, you don't want me to?"

Harry paused midstep, turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose before flattening his unruly hair again, "That was before we knew it could damage you further," he said tiredly.

"Didn't you hear them?! They said I could get back my memories!" he snapped.

"They also said we could lose you altogether!" Harry bit back.

He heaved, looking at the bloke, slowly soaking in the reason why Harry didn't want him to go ahead. If anything, it made his resolve stronger. It wasn't really Harry's fault. Harry couldn't possibly understand how frustrating it was to be at a loss about one's own identity. And of course, he didn't know about the tiny seed of hope...

Up until a few days, he knew he was Alex. Losing Gram was like a punch in the gut but the man had grown old and it was inevitable. And it was easy to disregard all his visions as nothing but random creations of his brain. Now he wasn't sure at all. The life that he had thought he had, could possibly be a lie. He needed the truth, he needed to find out where exactly he belonged- _if he belonged with them, with her._ His head ached again and he ignored the instinct to reach out for his healing potion.

"Look, Harry, I don't know if I am Ron or not," he exhaled with difficulty as the throbbing in his temples intensified. "Fuck, I don't even know who I am at this point! But I know I want to do this," he declared. "At this point, _you_ know more about Ron than I do. You know Ron, Harry. And something tells me Ron would have done this for Hermione, wouldn't he?" he asked softly. "He'd have done it for both his best friends, right?"

Harry glared at him for a very long time before he walked to the couch and collapsed next to him.

"I don't want you to risk it," he said tiredly, almost pleading, and he placed an arm on the younger boy's shoulder.

"Look, mate, I don't know if I am Ron. And in a way, I barely know you both. But-" he exhaled, running his fingers through his hair, trying his best to ease his breathing as a sharp, piercing pain shot through his system. "I don't know why but when I see her-" he gulped and paused. "You've seen what Hermione has become without Ron, Harry," he said instead, "maybe if I do this...maybe Hermione will find her Ron," he managed quietly.

Harry looked at him for a long while. "Maybe Hermione has already found her Ron, mate," he said at last.

He looked away to hide the longing.

"She'll not survive losing him again," continued Harry, "Fuck,_ I_ won't survive if I lose both my best friends again, okay?" he exclaimed, seeming at the end of his patience. "You are _not_ doing this," he declared firmly.

"You-"

"No, we are _not_ having this discussion. Let's go to your dorm. Pack your bags, we are going off to Hermione's."

….

"You both aren't being reasonable," he told her.

He had been fed a Dreamless Sleeping Potion the previous night and had woken up to find Hermione in the living room floor. Innumerable scrolls, parchments and his Gram's diaries were littered all around her. There were large volumes of books he had never seen before. As he glanced at their titles, they all seemed to deal with Memory Charms.

She looked up from her scroll, and despite her dishevelled state, her hair tied in a messy bun, eyes showing signs of having rested very little, he fell a little more in love with her.

"And how so?" she asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"You know I have to do this."

"And you know it's too risky."

"There is a chance it'll all work out."

"And there is a chance-" she paused and sucked in a breath. "No. Please," she insisted and looked away. "There has to be some answer somewhere," she muttered as if to herself.

He sat down on the carpet and rested his back against the couch as he watched her work.

_What if he was pinning his hopes on something that wasn't his at all? What if he just wanted to be her Ron so much that he was overlooking the obvious? What if he was just Alex? The treatment would give them final answers - and what if it proved he had been Alex all along. Would Hermione…_

"Where's Harry?" he asked, looking around.

"He's at the Ministry, trying to get the diary uncoded as soon as he can," she replied while pondering over one of the books. She looked so endearing that he decided it was worth all the pain. He quietly wondered if Ron loved watching her work too.

"Hermione?" he called.

"Yes, Ron?" she replied automatically without even looking up before she gasped, and slowly met his gaze, eyes pooling over again.

He tried to smile but he was sure it came out rather sad. "See? This is why I need to take a shot at it. You'll know once and for all."

She seemed to struggle with words but it took her a long time to come up with something, and even then, her voice shook. "I'm scared. The Healers can't say anything for sure, can they?"

"And you are expecting your books to have an answer?"

"I don't know," she replied in a small voice.

"What are you scared of?" he asked. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear, but he wanted to know.

She chuckled a little sadly and pushed herself back to rest against the bigger couch.

"You know, after we found you and we weren't sure who you were, Harry made sure we never told you anything about..._him_\- just-"

"-just in case I was an imposter? Yeah, makes sense."

She nodded a little. "And now, the Healers don't want us to tell you anything. They fear it will make it harder to distinguish between your core memories, might add to your visions."

"I get that," he agreed.

"And I- I don't know what to think anymore," she admitted.

"Just tell me what you want," he said and she looked up. The answer was there in her eyes. "You just want him back, don't you?" he asked, surprisingly not even feeling hurt about it.

"I guess I never learned how to live without him," she admitted slowly. "Never thought I'd have to." She looked up and met his eyes and he sighed quietly to himself.

"You have no proof I'm him, Hermione. Why are you building so many dreams?" He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "My memories suck, but you-" he sighed, "-you'll not be able to forget these expectations you are building."

"What- what do _you_ want?" she asked after a while and he could only look at her in reply.

_I want to be whoever you want me to be_, he said, but not aloud. The way she looked away, blushing, made him wonder if she heard the unspoken.

…..


	7. 7: The Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Finally the answers you all have been waiting for. Thank you for giving this story so much love. And as a gesture of thanks, I have added a little more to it and will hopefully roll out the last chapter tomorrow. I can't wait to know if this chapter does justice to the angst I've made you all go through. Much love~ Azalea.

Harry couldn't believe it had been over twelve hours and he was still not anywhere close to finding out anything about the mysterious diary. He could hardly concentrate on his Auror responsibilities, and more than once had to hold himself back from barging into the Minister of Magic's office, asking him to pass an order for the Unspeakables to hurry up. So when the interdepartmental memo flew into his cabin, his Seeker skills ensured he caught it even before it landed on his desk.

"Off you go, guys. I've got to meet the Minister," he informed his team and rushed out without even grabbing his robes.

"Kingsley!" he gasped as he pushed open the door without even bothering about the protocols and suddenly came face to face with Bill. An unknown fear crashed on him, "Bill?!"

"I don't know what's up either, I was called in urgently by him," informed the eldest Weasley sibling, gesturing at their Minister.

Kingsley, Harry noticed was looking rather shaken himself.

"You both might want to sit down for this," he gestured at the couch.

"Do we have something good?" Harry found himself asking.

"Read it yourself," replied the ex-Auror and pulled out a roll of sealed scrolls from his drawer and handed it to Bill. "I was asked to specifically hand it to the person who found it. It was Bill, right?"

Harry and Bill both nodded in unison as Bill grabbed it.

"What does this mean?" Harry found himself asking as they sat down.

"I don't know all the answers, but the person who translated this seemed very disturbed. Said it was a breach to the core ethics of their profession. Due to the nature of their jobs, judicial rules are not the same for them as the rest of the wizarding population. But there has been a clear breach. She couldn't tell me anything else. I am hoping you both will be able to explain better after you read this."

With his heart plummeting, Harry glanced at Bill as they scooted closer to start reading the scrolls together. Bill flicked on a candle closest to them and unfurled the scrolls.

"Wait!" Harry called hurriedly, "Shouldn't we call Hermione? She'd want to know."

"I think we better read it ourselves first and then decide, yeah?" Bill declared solemnly.

…...

"What the fuck is in those potions?!" he grumbled when he saw her again later in the day.

He had taken his medications after breakfast, hoping it would keep her from panicking about him, and he'd get more time to just stay back and watch while she continued her research. But he had fallen asleep as if drugged. By the time he was up, it was already night. He didn't know how long the Healers would take to make all the preparations, but he feared he had only up until the day of the procedure to spend with her- with both of them in fact. He didn't even know what the future had in store for him, and the last thing he wanted to do was waste them by sleeping.

"Are you hungry?" she asked instead, looking up from her notes, her hair even more frazzled than it was in the morning, and looking immensely more adorable somehow.

"No, but I'll take a hot chocolate if you have some."

She looked at him with that rare smile and shook her head incredulously. "Hot chocolate? Of course, why am I not surprised?" she sighed with an eye-roll, even as the smile made her features light up.

He followed her lazily to the kitchen. "Why _are_ you not surprised?"

"Because it's you and it's chocolate," she chuckled. As she tiptoed to reach for the jar of cocoa, he pulled it off the shelf and handed it to her.

"So?"

"Chocolate is your first love," she replied automatically and with a pang in his heart, he found her smile morph into a sad one. Looking away she heated the milk with her wand and pulled out two mugs for them.

"You are still hoping, aren't you?" he said slowly.

"Aren't you?" she called back. She handed him his mug silently and gestured quietly for him to follow. Once at the balcony attached to her bedroom, she sat down next to him and sipped quietly while looking at the far horizon where the lights from the city blended in with the stars.

…...

Harry began reading quietly next to Bill. Every now and then he heard the strained breathing of the man next to him, but neither could look away from the handwritten pages as the truth finally unfolded before them.

Harry remembered the first page of the diary held barely a few lines, now he knew what they meant.

_I know I will not live long, the years have begun to take a toll on my body. I am writing this in the hope that, when the time comes, my Alex finds the answers in this diary._

…...

At some point they had moved the chairs away and sat on the carpeted floor instead, their backs resting against the wall. It was a quiet and rather pretty night.

"Did you find anything in your books?" he asked after a while, and Hermione shook her head.

"No," she replied in a small voice. "I don't know, but I'm just confused. If the memory spells aren't twenty years old, and if not for your Grampa, who cast them on you?"

He rubbed his forehead again and sighed.

"Hurting again?" she asked, concerned, and placed an arm tenderly on his. The sudden burst of pain was unbearable, he flinched and forced himself to concentrate on his breathing.

"Yeah," he tried to smile but it came out like a grimace. She slowly removed her hand to look ahead instead. "These potions, y'know the ones I'm taking?" he asked of her, "What are they supposed to do exactly?" _Clearly, they weren't to keep his aches away._

"I'm not quite sure, but I think they are trying to reduce the effect of spells that have been cast on you- like antidotes?" she explained. "It's a slow process. They can't risk casting spells until they figure out the impact and the extent of the damage."

"Okay," he exhaled and sipped from his mug.

"You know, I've been wondering…There are many things that just don't add up," he placed his mug away to listen, "You Gram? He left so many diaries with all his detailed recipes, but so far, we haven't found the one for your headaches. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?" she asked.

"You-you're right…" he replied, pondering. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recollect when Gram made it. It would just be available whenever he needed it.

"And, how many vials of them do you have left?" she asked.

"Just the one," he replied slowly. Yes, he was sure they weren't any more. He had checked himself. The current one would last him a month, not more.

"One? Strange…" she mused aloud. "Someone who kept his grandson hidden away all his life, even avoided sending him to school to keep him safe, did not leave behind any instruction for the potion you have needed all your life? He taught you so much, but now I am assuming he never taught you to make this one, did he?"

"No…"

"Didn't even leave behind any instructions... but his other notes are so detailed. Doesn't this seem weird to you?" she asked contemplating.

"Y-Yes," he sighed._ Why had he never thought of this before?_

"Did he ever say anything about it?" she asked, "Anything that would make it sound like, I don't know, maybe you should stop taking them?"

"No, but- you- erm, remember I told you he was a little barmy?"

"Yes?"

"And, the day he died, he-he kept asking me to find my _key_."

"Your key? Key to what?"

…...

_I want him to find the life I snatched away from him. And most importantly, I hope he finds his key soon. He is a strong boy and I know he will overcome this battle. And wherever I am, I will be watching over and sending him my love._

"Key? What key?" Bill asked looking up at Harry, and he shook his head.

"I don't know. I don't think Alex ever mentioned a key. And we didn't find any key in the shack," he replied pondering. "Do you think we should ask him?" he found himself.

Bill nodded. "Maybe we should finish reading this first," he sighed.

"I'm kind of dreading what we'll find," Harry confessed.

"So am I," Bill exhaled.

…...

"I don't know, I just thought he was hallucinating perhaps?"

Hermione, he noticed, had placed her cup down too. Even in the faint light, he could see how her eyes had lit up as if she was finding the pieces of the puzzle. He could hear a faint buzzing in his ears, nothing painful though.

"A key…. A key? Key to what?" she muttered. "If there is a key, there must be a lock, but we didn't find any locks, did we? No, can't be, what else? Ah, a vault? A vault!" she turned at him excitedly. "Yes! Perhaps a key to his Gringotts' vaults? Maybe that holds answers!"

"A bank vault?" he mused. "I don't know, Hermione. I don't really think he had one. At least I don't remember him going to Gringotts ever."

She looked deflated but only for a moment. "We'll ask Harry to check! Maybe we'll find some answers!"

"Where's the bloke anyway?"

"I don't know. He should have been back by now," she replied glancing at her watch.

…...

_This is a story you have heard frequently, Alex. And yet, I have never told you all of it. Today, I will._

_It started that fateful night in September 1980._

_I thought I had protected them well. But the Death Eaters broke through our wards and took away everyone- my beloved wife, my son and my daughter-in-law. I had no option but to flee with my grandson, or they would have killed him too._

_He was just a tiny baby, but they hadn't spared him either. His body and mind bore the signs of torture. But he was a fighter. It took me many months to heal him back to health, and I feared losing him too but he recovered. I still remember how, even when he was in pain, his little arms would pull me in a hug and wipe my tears. His gorgeous blue eyes shone with love, and a strong will to live. I kept us hidden, blending in with Muggles, and living as far from settlements as I could. I brewed Polyjuice and blended in as a muggle when I had to venture out into the villages for my potion ingredients. I was worried they'd trace us out if I didn't hide my identity._

_When the Dark Lord was defeated by Harry Potter, I could not bring myself back to return to the magical world. Magic had snatched everything away from me, and I couldn't risk losing what little I had left. We were happy by ourselves and my Alex was safer this way. Safe and hidden, my boy started growing up._

_He was the light of my life, the only reason for this old man to live. But Bellatrix had left her marks behind on him and he suffered from the effects of their curses- even years after our escape. I made potions and ointments for him. I had hoped he would recover as he grew up, but the traces of the curses could never be washed away completely. They hit back when we least expected them to. Every time he fell sick, I managed to nurse him back. I could see the poison still persisted in his system, eating him away from within, slowly chipping off bits of him. He continued to get seizures, moments when the curses on his body resurfaced to torture him again and again. Every time I just about managed to snatch him away from the jaws of Death - until that cold Christmas morning back in 1996 when I couldn't._

_Alex left me alone too._

Harry heard a sharp gasp and as he looked up from the scrolls, he found Bill staring at him in horror.

…...

"Hermione?" he called quietly. He heard her suck in a breath at her name.

"Hmm?" she replied softly.

"What if I am just Alex?" he managed, voicing out his worst fears.

"I know you are my Ron."

"You do?"

"Yes," she replied and slowly placed her head on his shoulder. The buzzing in his ears became louder, like lots of words and voices were trying to escape from his conscience but it still wasn't very painful so he ignored it to cherish the moment instead.

"Then why don't you want me to go ahead with the procedure?" he asked, carefully threading his fingers with hers, feeling her scoot closer.

"Because I can't take that risk, what if-"

"You realise I need those memories, don't you?"

"I have them, can't that be enough for both of us?" she asked, and pulled their joined hands on her lap. The buzzing grew further.

"I don't know."

"Aren't you worried about the procedure going wrong?" she asked.

"I am but I want you to find your Ron," he replied, "I don't want you to question ever again if I am him. I want you to know for sure. I- I'm just worried that … What if I'm just Alex?" he asked again.

"I told you-"

…...

With his heart hammering away, Harry vaguely noticed as Bill turned the scroll where the writing continued.

_As I buried my grandson in the snowy ground that night, I knew I had lost it all. The Dark Lord was ruling our world again and life seemed to have come full-circle for me, only to leave me broken and alone at the end of the journey._

_And that was when I decided that I would kill the bitch who did this to me, who took away my family and made my boy suffer for the short eighteen years that he lived. Revenge became the sole reason for my existence._

_I searched and searched, but could never manage to find her. I had lived away from the magical world for very long and most of the contacts I had were lost or in hiding. I had almost given up hope, but then, one day, while I was at the Leaky Cauldron I heard of the revolution that had broken out at Hogwarts. The war cries were loud and I apparated to Hogsmeade._

_Chaos reigned when I arrived at Hogwarts along with everyone from Hogsmead. But as the battle raged on, I was on the lookout for Bellatrix. I knew I would be her end; only killing her would bring me relief. And then, as we were pushed into the Great Hall, I found her. I was just about to approach her when I saw someone. You- my dear boy- my Alex._

_You were fighting so bravely, your wand slicing through the air, tackling Death Eater after Death Eater, fighting like my son had died- fighting like a true Gryffindor. For minutes I continued to watch in awe, silently thanking Destiny for bringing my boy back- the same hair, the same eyes. You were as tall as my Alex would have been if he lived. The resemblance was striking. And I made up my mind._

_I joined in the fray and the two of us duelled against the scores who attacked us- grandfather and grandson, together- duelled as I had never done before, along with my boy. You stunned them with ease, smiling at me, and I knew life had given this old man another chance._

_In hindsight, I regret my actions. But that night my selfishness won over. I could see nothing beyond the desire to take my Alex and run away, keep him safe from the world as I had promised myself I would do._

_I know you weren't expecting me to do it at all, but I stunned you too and hid you behind a tapestry. And then I Rennervated one of the Death Eaters we had stunned before. My constant companion, the Polyjuice flask was still with me and adding one of your hair to it, I Imperioed the Death Eater to drink it. And then I killed him too. I won't deny, pulling the wand on a face that looked like my baby was the hardest thing I have ever done. But I knew that it was the only way. Only by bringing your past life to a close, could I get back my Alex._

Harry could hear Bill heaving in fury and he too could feel the anger bubbling through his veins but he read on, hoping there was some answers, something that could bring his best mate's memories back.

_After leaving the Death Eater with your clothes, wand, watch and a curious-looking device you were carrying in your pocket, I Rennervated and Imperioed you too, and cast an invisibility charm on you to hide you from prying eyes. As the cheers of the Dark Lord falling filled the air around us, we left the Hogwarts grounds. I Apparated away with you to the security of the woods. Life had given me another chance._

_Back in the shack, it took me almost a week to rework on your memories. It shouldn't have been necessary. The ancient magic borne out of love was powerful. Your apparent 'death' should have given me the break I needed. With your actual family and loved ones believing that you were gone forever, it should have been easy for you to fall under my spells. But you didn't. Your old memories began bursting out of you- moments during which you would be stuck in limbo between your past and the visions, my Alex's experiences, I planted in your memories._

_It took me months to figure out what went wrong- and then I realised. There was someone who still believed in your return, someone who did not accept you had died._

_My magic and spells failed to remove a trace of love so strong that it overcame the boundaries of time, space and powerful ancient magic. My spells couldn't obliviate your past memories as they should have- they simply stayed in you, buried deep but tied to your existence by a stronger force; my spells couldn't overcome or touch them._

_I had hoped, with time the bond would weaken, but they didn't. I knew you were my Alex who had come back- you were just like my boy, loving and full of life. But once again, I found myself making potions and healing my Alex back while he continued to suffer from 'headaches'._

_For almost a year and a half, I kept hoping that one day, I'd wake up to find you free from your past. I kept hoping that one day, your old bonds would break and you would be my Alex- just my Alex._

_But now, almost two years since the time I brought you home, I regret my actions._

_I don't think you will ever completely be my Alex, for you belong to someone else who has been holding onto hope for your return, who has never believed in your 'death'- who till this day, still waits for you._

_And my conscience abhors me now. I've done unto another exactly what Bellatrix did to me. There is no redemption for me. There is no way I can undo this. I am not brave enough. I don't have the strength to see the disgust in the eyes that look at me with love and care._

_I know, I don't have many days left. I have stopped making the potion that holds back your sudden burst of real memories from surfacing. Once you stop taking your potion, slowly you'll find your way back._

…_..._

"For once, I have no solid proof but I believe my heart. I know you are my Ron," she whispered, and he held her closer. The buzzing was reaching unbearable limits and yet, for the first time in a long while he felt at peace.

"When I look at you, sometimes I wonder why I love you so much," he said softly and heard her breath hitch. "I wonder about all the times Ron would have spent with you, Hermione. Wonder when he must have realised he fell in love with you, wonder about all the small things he must have shared with you, felt about you. And my memories fail me." He sucked in a breath and wrapped an arm around her shoulder while she pressed herself closer. Resting her head on his chest, she placed an arm over his chest, sniffing as he continued. "If those were my memories, I want them back, and if they weren't," he heaved, feeling as if his chest would constricting even at the thought. "I don't know…I-I just wonder, you know, that if Alex loves Ron's Hermione so much, how much did Ron love her? I want to find out."

"You _are_ my Ron," she told him, and pushing herself a little more towards him, wrapped her arm around his neck and buried her face on his shoulder. He could hear her crying softly. "My Ron would never leave me, he'd come back. He promised me he would," she managed despite her tears, pushing herself off a smidge to look into his eyes. "When Bellatrix was torturing me at the Malfoy Manor, and I thought I-I'd die, it was _his_ screams that kept me alive," she managed between whimpers, and he found himself gripping her hand hard as the buzzing now sounded more like words- her screams of pain, and his screams calling her out.

"When we were back at Shell Cottage, he promised me he would never leave me," she continued, and he could hear the gentle crashing of waves against the rocky cliffside. He could hear whispered voices, hers and his own.

"Even before we left for the Hunt with Harry, my Ron promised to stay by me, and he did. He came back although he left," she said as she buried her face in his chest, "-he came back although the Horcrux made him leave. I knew he would always come back to me." He could clearly see a golden locket this time, opening up to show a pair of red eyes within. He saw green smoke morph into figures and the ruby hilted sword as it slashed down on the locket.

"He would never leave me alone, I know," she choked out and placed her head back on his shoulder.

"The key," he whispered at last, heaving, and she looked up again to meet his eyes.

"What..?" she asked slowly, confused.

"The key, Hermione," he explained urgently as the pain began throbbing with gusto and images upon images began zipping in front of his eyes. The buzzing turned into voices and words and laughter.

_She was the key, the bind that kept him tethered to his past._

He pulled all the strength he had, bracing for the pain he knew was on its way, and pressed his lips to hers. Closing his eyes, Ron swallowing the sob that emitted from Hermione, vaguely realising that she had climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her as close as he possibly could.

Ron held onto Hermione with all the strength he possessed even as the power of all his lost memories crashing out of his subconscious turned into white-hot lava, burning him from within.

Exhausted, he collapsed in her arms.

…..

_I know your true identity. I've seen it in the papers. I don't have the courage to take you back to your family. I know it's selfish of me but I am hoping to die with my grandson, my Alex, bidding me farewell. I have snatched away two years of your life but I am just requesting you for a few more days._

_I know, your key, the person who has loved you beyond all- the person whom, I am sure you have loved beyond all, will find you soon. Their life tethers you to life. Their presence will trigger your memories to resurface._

_Love works in mysterious ways, and despite having spent most of my life researching the power of love, I have failed to understand it, comprehend it. Only love has the power to undo the spell cast on you out of love._

_I know they won't rest till they find you. And once they do, and you realise the bond you both share, that day you will find everything this old, selfish man took away from you. I hope for your sake and theirs that it's soon._

_I know it'll be hard, but if possible, the day you find out the truth, please also find in your heart to forgive this old man. No matter where I am, I will watch over you and send you my love, Ron Weasley._

_Your 'Grampa',_

_Erasmus Llyod._


	8. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Thanks to each one of you who were a part of this journey, for your reviews which make me feel really humbled by all the love you have sent my way. This story ends here. Thank you all for loving Ron and Hermione so much and for also loving Alex. I loved writing him but I'm happier to send him away and welcome back 'Hermione's Ron.'

"_Rennervate"_

He opened his eyes while breathing deeply, and the surrounding materialised around him slowly as if he had woken up after a very long nap.

"H-Hermione?" he called, and her tear-stricken face appeared over his.

"R-Ron?" she called, as if fearful he wouldn't recognise her, _again._

He tried smiling but noticing how her eyes were taking him, searching, tears flowing freely, Ron heaved a sigh and swallowed, choking back on a sob. He placed a palm on her cheek and she grabbed it in both of hers, seemingly struggling for words too. Despite being breathless, he pulled her face closer and pressed his lips to hers, heard her cry of relief mingle with his as she climbed onto his lap and grabbed him fiercely.

He could taste her salty tears as he kissed her face over and over, brushing away her locks with his palms, wiping as much moisture as he could while she kept holding onto his jumper with one hand while running her hands over his chest as if making sure he was not a dream.

They separated after aeons, but only a smidge.

Ron tried saying something again, but unable to find words he pushed himself to a sitting position. He noticed he was resting against some pillows she must have conjured while he was unconscious.

He still couldn't frame words and it seemed like the enormity of the situation had rendered her speechless as well. Hermione continued to look at him while she adjusted his fringe before grabbing his face with both her hands and brushing his cheeks with the pad of her thumbs. She looked tired, and soon she closed her eyes while she touched his forehead to his.

Wrapping his arms firmly around her waist, he pulled her closer, closing his eyes and breathing as if for the first time in many many years.

After a long time, she pulled away, just enough to be able to see his face clearly.

Carefully, she placed her palm on his cheek, bit her lip and sniffed again, "Feeling okay?" she managed, searching his eyes still.

Sighing deeply, he licked his chapped lips and nodded a little, smiling "Yes,"

He continued to gaze at her as her eyes pooled over again, and she seemed to choke back a sob and attempted a smile and then she crashed into his chest.

The realisation crept in slowly. He was back where he belonged. He was home.

And then he sobbed while she held onto him, fiercely, protectively.

…

Two loud cracks echoed and drowned in the sound of the traffic, and no one noticed the weirdly dressed men who emerged from a dead-end alley and dashed to the main street before they ran into an indescriptive flat, only to come to a skidding halt in front of the second door on the third floor.

The seemingly younger of the two had barely pulled out a long stick when the door opened for them.

"Hermione?!" Harry gasped, "Your Patronus…"

The rest of the words died on his lips as a tall wizard walked out of the room. He looked exhausted, but there were the same lopsided grin and familiar pair of eyes that greeted them.

"Harry? Bill?"

Hermione closed the door shut and watched as both the men crashed onto Ron, grabbing him fiercely, their words a jumbled mess of exhilaration, relief and tears.

…..

Much later that night, after Ron and Hermione had told Harry and Bill what had transpired, and the boys had told them all about the diary, Bill found Hermione sitting next to Ron's sleeping form, holding his hand with one hand, holding Erasmus' diary in the other.

Harry had to leave for an urgent Auror meeting but he had declared he was coming back to Hermione's as soon as he was done.

Hermione had insisted vehemently on taking Ron to the Healers right away and Bill had found Harry send him an incredulous but happy smile when Ron being _him_ had managed to calm her down, promising he'd visit the Hospital the first thing in the morning.

"I feel mostly okay, just a little worn out. May I please go to sleep? You know they'll prod and poke all night if we go there now!" he countered, and Bill hadn't failed to notice how she melted at his words. Hermione had, however, forced him to take a sip of Dreamless Sleeping Potion.

"Hermione?"

She sniffed and turned to face him. "Yes, Bill?" she smiled, and he walked into her bedroom. He looked fondly at Ron's sleeping form, and let out a tired sigh before walking forward and placing a palm on top of her head.

"You've done the impossible," he said quietly as he sat down in front of her. She glanced a look at Ron's peacefully sleeping form again, closed the diary and heaved a tired smile.

"I-I am just relieved it all worked out. The Healers weren't very optimistic."

"Yeah, Harry told me."

They sat quietly watching Ron sleep before she finally spoke. "When do we tell the family?"

"Tomorrow morning," he replied. "You guys take him to the hospital first and then-" he paused and he noticed his voice was thick with emotions when he spoke, "-bring him home."

She smiled and seemed to try to say something before her eyes pooled again and she nodded.

"Go to sleep. You need rest too. I'll see you three tomorrow, yeah?"

"I will. Just waiting for Harry to return," she replied.

Taking one look at Ron, he patted his sleeping brother's head fondly before he left. Once back at the dark alley, he sent out a few patronuses before he apparated home.

…

It was almost eight when Bill landed just beyond the protective wards of the Burrow. He strode in quickly, knowing well that he would be greeted by an anxious Weasley brood.

His father pulled open the door before he could knock.

The kitchen was bursting at the seem with all his brothers, his wife and daughter. His mother and Fleur were busy serving breakfast. Only his sister was missing; he hadn't expected her to be able to make it at such short notice anyway.

"Bill!" called Fred, looking peakish. "What's the matter? Why did you call us all here so early?"

Bill looked around and noticed how despite the normal chattering, every face was barely holding in their worry.

"I have to tell you all something," he announced and felt the air around him stifle. He couldn't blame them.

"Is Hermione alright?" his mother asked, dropping her ladle and wiping her hand on her apron, deep worry lines marking her features.

"Yes, she is, Mum. And she and Harry will be here in some time. And- they are bringing someone home." Curious eyes turned at him. "Ron," he provided.

"_R-Ron?!_" George gasped as his mother looked away to wipe her tears.

"Bill that's a sick joke, mate," Charlie glared.

" It's not a joke. A miracle? Yes."

"B-but-"

He glanced at his watch. From the message Harry's Patronus had given him, the three would take another half an hour at the very least.

"You guys better grab seats. This will be a lot to take in."

…..

Almost two hours had passed since Bill's arrival and the gathered group had moved into the garden, every pair of eyes trained at the spot just beyond the wards.

Bill found his father standing by a tree, his tired, old eyes waiting.

"Dad?" he called softly, and the old man turned, "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," his father replied sighing and glanced sideways where their mum was setting up a long table, wiping her eyes at regular intervals but looking happier than Bill could remember.

"Hermione did it," Arthur smiled, opened mouth as if to say more and then shook his head as if lost for words.

"Yes, she and Harry," Bill agreed. He blew out softly and pulled out the box he had procured form Diagon Alley that morning. "Dad, erm, what do you think about these?" he called as he opened the velvet box to show his father the contents. The old man looked at them for a long while, and his eyes were full of unshed tears when he met Bills eyes again.

"They are perfect, son," he announced and pulled out his wand to cast the spell.

….

They had landed amidst hugs, tears and smiles the moment they had apparated. Hermione couldn't even remember when she had felt so much happiness around her. The morning had been the best in years, she had woken up to the sounds of laughter from her boys who were sat on the floor, she knew, waiting for her to wake up.

Ron had pulled her into a hug while grabbing Harry with his free hand, and they had remained that way for a long time. Harry, she had noticed, looked like he had aged in reverse suddenly.

She watched as the group laughed and enjoyed their meal, sitting all around the enormous table, Harry and Ron flanking her on either side. Once again she looked down at Ron's hand that was holding firmly onto hers under the table. Her heart was too full. She felt like her brain was yet to comprehend everything, the relief seemed almost surreal.

After a plethora of tests, the stunned Healers had prescribed Ron some potions to strengthen his mind but otherwise declared him fit. She knew she would continue to need medication for her anxiety. The previous night she had woken up multiple times just to check if Ron was still next to her. It was only in the early hours of the morning when exhaustion had lulled her to sleep.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione?" Bill called, breaking her line of thought, and she looked up.

"This is for you guys," he said and handed her a box. She found her boys looking curiously at her and by the look on the faces of others, no one apart from Bill, Arthur and Molly were aware of the contents.

She opened it carefully, her eyes pooling instantly at the sight while she heard a soft gasp from Harry.

"We should have got these long ago for you two," said Molly. She was leaning heavily on her husband, wiping her eyes with her apron.

"- but without Ron's…" sighed Arthur with a sad smile.

Hermione looked at Ron who beamed at them. Harry gave her a watery smile before he looked away.

"Go ahead, you three," prodded the twins, and suddenly there was lots of clambering as everyone pushed away from their chairs.

…...

The three new spoons glinted brightly in the sunlight streaming into the room, and as soon as all the three were fixed to the dial, they swung around to join the others and came to rest on the part labelled _Home_.

….

_Fin_


End file.
